The Painted Door
by sfrittenhouse
Summary: For Odyna, life is falling into place. She is soon to be married to Charles, but a ring her father gives as a wedding gift lands her in another realm ruled by The Woodland King (The Goblin/Erlking). The realm that she watched her mother disappear into and die long ago. (Elves, goblins, labyrinth, etc.) King like cross of Thranduil/Loki/Erlkonig and OC-Original storyline
1. Chapter 1

The Painted Door

The painted door burst open. Jackson nearly threw himself through the opening of the doorway into the large parlor room beyond it, landing upon the floor in a heap. He instantly scrambled to his feet turning to face the ethereal realm beyond the door in order to help the young maiden that was following closely behind him. She was halfway through the painted door when a blackened mist swirled up behind the girl and quickly took shape into a tall and imposing form of a man. But this was no ordinary man, for it was the Goblin King. He was dressed in black hunter's leather with a sword at his side and a sheathed dagger at his calf. His physical presence radiated that of a skilled predator with agility and grace and he was he was much taller than Lela and Jackson. Jackson lunged towards Lela's hand, tightly clasping onto her wrist to pull her through the door and away from the entrapment of the Goblin King.

But Erlkin was just as quick, if not quicker, than Jackson and grabbed Lela's other arm in a fierce grip just at the base of her arm above her elbow, preventing her from completing the passage through the door.

"Stop!" He commanded in a loud voice, "You must not go through the door." He snapped her body back in his direction partially toward him and her face whipped back to look into his dark elf-like features as she let out a small scream.

With two opposing forces both latched onto her, Lela was trapped between the two worlds. She looked over to Jackson with his boyish features and wavy brown hair. His eyes were light blue and they were pleading with her to come with him. He was the man that came to her rescue. He promised her freedom and love. But there was a pull within her being that caused her head to turn away from him. It was like a call to her soul that she could not ignore and it was coming from the opposite direction. His direction! She couldn't help herself, no matter how much she willed her mind to keep looking at Jackson, she just could not resist Erlkin's lure as he beckoned to her with his will. Lela continued to turn until she faced the Goblin King with his jet black hair, his dark and mysterious golden-green eyes, high cheekbones and smooth pale skin like alabaster. The often mischievously lifted brows and twinkling eyes were replaced with the angriest look she had ever seen upon his face.

"You cannot leave!" He demanded sharply, biting his hand even deeper into the flesh of her arm, causing her to wince. "For you will surely die." She closed her eyes from the pain, but also kept them closed to avoid his penetrating stare. The stare that could woo her soul and enchant her back to him. Upon hearing his heated words, she donned her best courage against him, turning her defiant blue eyes set in a beautiful heart-shaped face toward him.

"Better to die with love than to remain here as your prisoner. Your slave!"

"Love?" Erlkin roared with mockery. "You know nothing of the love of men. Whatever that young rouge has told you, it is a lie, my dearest little lark."

The hazy voice of Jackson lifted above the fog that had enveloped Lela's mind as she heard him shouting. "Don't listen to him. Don't give in to him!" As if in a dream, she turned and saw Jackson standing there, pulling on her wrist, but it was as if she was standing outside of herself in a separate room with Erlkin. Jackson was poised by the door and had repositioned himself with both hands upon her thin delicate wrist and had propped a leg up against the frame of the doorway to give himself leverage against the strength of Erlkin.

In that moment, Erlkin passed his gloved hand by her face, close enough to caress her cheek but she did not feel his touch. The movement broke her concentration from Jackson's pleading face. The words he spoke slowed down to a blurred mumble and the tone became eerily low. It was as if Erlkin had slowed down time and it was just the two of them standing there. She stared up into the beautiful face of the Goblin King, whose features had softened from anger to something quite different; concern? And at this moment he looked more man than elf or King. His golden-green eyes were piercing and intense as he leaned in closer to her. Under his current spell, she could hear his voice echo in her mind, but he said nothing with his lips.

"You cannot leave me sweet Lark, for we are bonded together. You have not forgotten."

"No longer!" She whispered, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Her head was a cascade of long golden-colored curls that moved like the waves of the ocean all the way down her back to just above her hips, nearly cloaking her modest white dress.

"You cannot break the bond between us little Lark. For I gave you the kiss of death and chose to spare your life. You belong to me and no other."

Jackson stared in bewilderment as he watched the Goblin King leaning into Lela, with a menacing stare. He said nothing, but Jackson knew that the Goblin King was trying to lure her back to him, with his faerie magic. Jackson gripped harder on Lela's arm just as she began to twist and turn from him as if to head back to Erlkin. He heaved harder and pushed his leg against the frame even more to try to gain additional leeway.

"I love you! Please, come with me. You must fight him," he screamed in her direction as Erlkin moved his head to give him a mocking and sinister sneer. But Lela was still caught in Erlkin's mind spell and could only hear a mere echo of Jackson's voice calling in the background. She didn't even turn to acknowledge Jackson's call but continued to stare into the gelid green pools of Erlkin's eyes. The smell of autumn leaves, fresh rain and the tangy-sweet smell of mushrooms danced about her head. The black of his irises called to her and the frostiness of his eyes softened as if the summer sun was shining upon them. It was as if there were slivers of sunshine reflecting in them now, like longs wheat grasses in a meadow.

"Lies, Lark." He lowered his voice to a husky and enchanting whisper, velvety and smooth. "He is weaving lies and only seeks to steal you from me, along with my gold. He only told you he loved you to get the key to the gold. What do you think he is going to rescue you from? My little lark! You have no idea the world he wants to take you to. He promises you freedom, but there you will experience merely a different kind of slavery. A different gilded cage awaits you there, the slavery of men. Come back with me! Come back to me little lark!"

Lela's lips parted as if to speak and her eyes were large glimmering pools that looked as if they would spill over at any minute. She could not muster a defense against him and she only managed to let out a small panicked gasp that could have been a half-sob. Her body could hear the call of the Goblin King. She could feel it like a heat beginning to spread through her whole person; like an intoxicating drug that made everything she knew fuzzy and foggy that she could not reason through. Erlkin's voice caressed her mind like a snake coiling around its prey. "You will die if you leave my realm. You will be mortal once again. I offer you eternal youth and beauty. I can give you all kinds of hopes and desires. All that I ask of you is so little! Do not force me to be cruel!"

His face pierced through the fog of her mind and his gaze hovered above her own. His silky voice echoed around her, threatening to envelope her in its warmth. She could hear the rise of songbirds singing to her and smell the musky scent of leaves and wood. He leaned in over her just above her ear, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath, causing her to shiver with fear and something else. "Believe….believe in me. Obey me. Worship me. Love me." The words were laced with fairy enchantment and magic, like rocks that tied her down and rendered her powerless to move. Powerless to fight or respond. He had begun to move his arm from her wrist to around her small waist. With his other hand, he was making a move to unsheathe his small dagger. If he got it into his hand, she knew what her fate would be.

Lela's mind tried to fight against him. It was an internal battle between the magical words of the Goblin King and those of Jackson. It was clear that the Goblin King's intent was to demonstrate his power over her will and all in front of Jackson. The closer he came to her, the greater the desire to be closer to him and to be near to him; touch him. But a small voice in her head reminded her of Jackson. The boyish face of her young rescuer. He did say he would save her from the Goblin King. But Jackson also stole the king's gold, and only with her help. Could it be a trap? A mere lie? She was the only one with the key to the last door that contained his gold. Did he really love the gold more than her? He did say he loved her; that he would marry her. It was more than the Goblin King had ever offered or promised her. These few thoughts ignited a small fire of courage and hope within her.

The Goblin King's features grew dark and sinister like night descending upon an already dark and menacing forest. "If he steals you from me, he has stolen everything!" Erlkin finally whispered in a low voice; a shaky and unnerving tone that hinted toward something. Fear?

"Remember what I told you?" Jackson was now shouting at the top of his lungs in an effort to get Lela's attention and to draw her away from the power of the king. The Goblin King's head reared up and he gave an ominous look to Jackson, unsure of the poison that he could have told to Lela to use against him. Once Erlkin broke his gaze with Lela, it gave her mind just enough freedom to hear the words that Jackson began to yell.

"I have conquered the Goblin King's labyrinth and stolen your gold. My will is now as strong as yours. You, Erlkin, have no power over me, Lela!"

"I am Lela, not Lark and you no longer have power over me." She managed to say her true name and not her slave name that Erlkin had given her, thus gaining mastery once again over her own life. A single tear streaked down her cheek. "You have no power over me Erlkin."

"No!" The Goblin King said as he raised a protective hand up, as if to stop her words. "Stop!"

This time she mustered all the power and strength that she had to shout out loudly. "You have no power over me for I have bested your labyrinth, stolen your gold and remembered my true name. You have no power over me any longer! No longer your caged lark will I be." She leaned toward him with a new secret confidence. "No longer do I believe in you! No longer do I believe!"

Erlkin dropped her arm and stepped back away from her in horror, as if she had thrust a poisoned knife into his gut. His entire body shook from the words that she spoke, and he stepped back and dropped to one knee doubling with what seemed like pain. But he regained his composure and rose again to face them both, his pale face like a regal mask revealing no emotion now.

When the king fell at her attack, Jackson was able to pull her into the parlor with him and she collapsed into his arms, weak and unable to look up as Jackson and Erlkin remained in a silent standoff. Jackson knew that the Goblin King could not leave his faerie realm beyond the painted door unless called upon. Jackson swung Lela's limp form up into his arms and cradled her into his chest, giving a triumphant look to the Goblin King. He cocked his eyebrows up in defiance, tempting the King to act or say something.

Only after several minutes of quiet standoff did the Goblin King finally speak. "You will be her death! For she does not know the hearts of men, as I do! She will not be able to survive without the magic that she has lived with here for so long, her health will give out on her. Your world will kill her! And I shall be waiting for her return, for as soon as she becomes aware of the greed that rules your heart, she will return to me!"

"I'm never giving her back to you!"

"We shall see!"

Jackson didn't wait any longer, as he swung around and kicked the door shut with the back of his heel right on the face of the Goblin King, thus sealing the gateway to his realm. He slowly walked across the darkened room, kneeling down to place Lela on the settee. He then reached toward her neckline for the black satin necklace at her collarbone and pulled out a blood-red crystal key. He lifted the key from her limp head and walked over to the painted door. Without hesitation, he thrust the key into the keyhole and promptly locked the door. As the door was locked, the magic of the painted door began to roll downward as if the wood and paint were melting upon the door itself leaving nothing behind but the walls of the parlor room. The door faded in color, turning into an invisible dust of sparkle till it was no longer.

"We'll see!" Jackson echoed. "Over my dead body!"

Power rose within him, stoked by his fury. He stared at the huge painted door for a long time. He then began to look at it deeper and study it. He took in the intricate carvings of the wide frame with the elfish patterns and paint. He took in the painted mosaic patterns that adorned the heavy wooden door creating a large circle labyrinth symbol. He lifted his finger and traced the pattern, circling his finger over it again and again. He stopped abruptly and took a step back from the door, looking to the elfish words secretly carved into parts of the door, hidden in the carvings of the oak leaves, acorns and other decorations. The door was massive in size, taller than his seven feet and made of the strongest wood of all the trees in the faerie realm. There was no penetrating the door or destroying it because of its enchantments. He placed his hand upon the door, as if he could feel her beyond it, but instead there was nothing.

He abruptly spun in a seething rage from the looming shape. Cast in its darkening shadow, he let out a howl of frustration so fierce and powerful that all the corners of his kingdom could hear him. Even the labyrinth shook in its sentient fear of his anger. With a mere snap of his fingers, his magic crackled to life bringing forth one of his most trusted goblins with a gust of wind that lifted his long black hair. It was Beezum that he had summoned. Beezum was the head steward from the castle and had been there for centuries. The instantaneous summoning left him groveling before his master with a perplexed look upon his gnarled face, especially after hearing the howl that echoed through the castle only moments ago.

"Majesty?" Beezum inquired as he dipped low in a respectful bow to his king.

His pale face showed no emotion save authority. The thought of tasking a guardian upon the door helped to quell the fiery embers of anger and hatred to a mere simmer, as opposed to unleashing it upon everything in his current path. It was not as if something of this magnitude had never happened to Erlkin before. On the contrary, many people find their way into the faerie realm and through the painted doors and attempt to steal his gold or even manage to get away with a few pieces, but they never steal his muses or his keys. He clenched his fist in renewed fury over the treachery and betrayal.

A slight cough drew his attention down to the goblin standing close to him. "Uh…master, how long am I to stand and wait, my lord?"

Erlkin lifted a dark brow in annoyance. "As long as it takes." He swept the long black cape about himself and then strode off toward the tall hedges of the labyrinth. As he approached them, the hedges uprooted and shifted backward in their places and began to bow as the king made a direct path through the labyrinth and to his castle. Beezum hung his head at this response and gave a quiet sigh. His position as the head steward at the castle would definitely be lost to him with this new request to guard the portal door. "_Great"_, he thought!

Erlkin paused and called over his shoulder with an evil and sinister laugh as if he had heard Beezum's thoughts, "Even if it takes all of time."


	2. Chapter 2

The Painted Door

Chapter Two

The creatures of the wood, they encompass time and have plenty of it to plot their schemes and fun. Wild things are like that, endlessly patient. They are often mean-spirited wretches that love to pester, cajole, trick and tempt good people with their mischief and cunning. They have been toying with her for hours and hours now, she was convinced. Casting eerie shadows around her as she walked. Creating noises that caused her heartbeat to quicken and her pace to step up as she attempted to retrace her steps back to the worn path that she unknowingly veered from earlier. She continued to search for the dappled path, the one that was well worn and would lead her to a safer haven than the darkening wood that loomed before her. The one that would take her back to her village.

She could hear whispers that sounded like words telling her that maybe she _wanted_ to be lost, that she should be fearful of a hunter. She glanced around as she heard a tinkling noise that sounded like bells, like the bells of the vespers. She scanned the horizon to see if she could find the source of the sound, maybe a church. She stepped over fallen branches and walked upon soft green moss covered in red-capped mushrooms with white spots. She could smell their sweet wet scent on the air and she could feel her stomach's response to the idea of food. Despite her lack of intimate knowledge of the wood, she was smart enough to not be tempted to eat the fungi that grew about her. The red color alone was enough to scare her as it reminded her of blood and that if she ate it she would, more than likely, be choking on her own. She trudged along, continuing to look for the path, berries to eat and whatever was making the musical sound.

As she crested another hill, she came upon a darkened clearing where only a sliver of sky and light penetrated through the tall trees. The filtering light made the trees looking like the bars of a cage. The cage that the forest had created about her. The light penetrated the eerie perspective, but every step she took the sliver of the sky and light retreated further and further away from her, out of her reach. Soon it would be dark and if she could see the moon, it too would be there, following her and guiding her, but always out of reach. She looked around her as the shadows seemed to stretch out from her peripherals, long boney fingers anxious to consume her. It was a faerie trap, just enough light to give an illusion of hope but the light only served to lure her deeper and deeper in the wrong direction, into the realm of the forest and its wild occupants.

She was exhausted and hungry. Her legs hurt and she decided to sit to take a rest. Near the edge of the clearing was a huge fir tree. She sat beneath it and cradled her knees to her chest, rocking and singing a song out loud to herself in an effort to create a sense of comfort. But the position grew uncomfortable after a time and she started to yawn, laying down onto the bed of soft needles, she fell asleep; and there in lay the misjudgment, and grave mistake.

A sound startled her awake. It could have been the breaking of a stick or branch or the rustling of the leaves through the trees, but she instantly scrambled to her feet, taking in her surroundings. The wood was much darker now and what little sky she could see was tinged with shades of purple and hints of pink. She tore her gaze from the sky and that is when she saw him. He was casually standing by a moss covered tree that was nearly double his person despite his great height. He leaned against it with his arms crossed over his chest, silently watching her, as if assessing a potential prey. His eyes stood out in the blackness of the evening, glittering and feral with magic and they narrowed upon her. It was the look of a hunter that had caught the eyes of its prey before the chase ensued. She was slightly caught by their power and their deadly intent.

Panic was surely written all over her face and she hesitated. She wasn't sure if she should turn and attempt to flee, for his lean form gave no illusion as to his strength and agility. Silence stretched between them. Seconds turned to minutes as they both stood there, waiting. He was tall, too tall and it scared her. He was also dark, for he was dressed in solid black leather, with forest green trimmings and a long dark cloak. She saw a glimmer of silver at his leg and guessed that it might be a weapon. His face was long and like chiseled marble. It was so pale that he looked ethereal. His cheekbones were high and his jawline was strong and set. He was so still, she wasn't sure if he was real or if she was dreaming. The wind picked up and ruffled the cloak at his feet and lightly tousled at his long raven black hair, lifting it at the ends. She knew then that he was real, as real as her racing heart and it was beating so loud that he must surely hear it.

She finally broke the standoff and stepped forward. Her voice was small and pleading.

"Please, my lord. Erlkin, King of the forest faerie." She folded her hands together in her best effort to instill compassion. "I am lost, will you not grant me mercy and guide me back to the proper path?"

The man didn't move, but she could see his eyebrows raise inquisitively and a mischievous smirk appear at the corner of his mouth. The look was devious, cunning, and….frightening.

"Mercy?" His voice was deep and like a velvet caress in its questioning response. "How is it that a pretty little human as yourself would come to know my fae name?"

Her rose-kissed lips parted and then she lightly wet them with her tongue, as they had gone dry. She motioned to the trees with a sway of her hand, "The trees doth whisper your name to me. And a bird sang a song of you whilst my walk earlier in the day." The man's eyes narrowed evilly as he regarded the trees with a slight hiss of anger that caused them to momentarily bow, swaying to and fro, as if afraid themselves. She believed that if he knew which tree it might have been, she would be watching as he uprooted it on the spot and set it ablaze. But she did not know which tree as they all seemed to have whispered to her throughout the day, warning her of danger and that she lurked his domain. But more than the trees, it was the song of a nightingale that sang a lamentation about the hunter named Erlkin.

Abruptly, he laughed and then turned his eyes back upon her. "Mercy? When you have been so cruel to me all day?"

Her eyes grew wide with surprise and a protest rose to her lips. She shook her head slightly, her longs wavy golden hair swayed and rippled about her shoulders. She lifted her hands in an appealing response to his accusation against her.

"No." She frantically pleaded.

She cowered slightly at his looming form as it stepped away from the large tree, dropping long lashes before her pale blue eyes. Shaking her head and swallowing hard, her weak resolve broke. Tears welled up and spilled forth, pouring down her cheeks.

"Yes! You _have_ been cruel to me all day." He said mockingly, as he pointed a black-gloved finger at her. "Enticing me with your presence and singing songs of love through your trek in _my _wood. And here you stand before me, pleading for mercy from the consequences of your own actions? And you even _dare_ to speak my fae name!"

She sank down to the forest floor her face buried in her hands, now fearful for her life from this dark elf king.

"And despite the warnings, you still continued deeper into the wood. When you could have…SHOULD have turned back…you stubbornly proceed on your blissfully merry way?"

She choked back the tears and spoke up. "No, you twist things. The forest, it all looks the same and I could not find my way back. The trees… the bushes…everything….ah! She began to cry again.

Suddenly she felt hands on either side of her arms and she wrenched herself back and away from them, shocked and fearful. How did he cross to her so quickly? Could he ride the wind, for he was so quiet that she did not hear any sound from his approach and the forest floor was littered with branches, twigs and dead leaves? She could only lift tearful pleading eyes to his, begging for mercy. His skin was so pale that it almost shone like a light in the darkness, as if it radiated its own light. He turned his head to the side while still looking at her and that is when she noticed the golden flecks in his eyes and that his ears really were long and pointed. It really was the King of the Woodland Forest. A bubble of panic began to blossom in her chest and throat. She wanted to bolt, but knew he would be infinitely faster than herself, endowed with Elfish magic that made him swift and quick.

"Please…." Her voice trailed off, her head hung low in defeat. When she raised her head up to his face again, she could see that he was smiling, soft and with a hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth, but there was also a guarded coolness to him at the same time.

"Sing for me. For it pleases me." He said as he pushed back his long black cloak and sat next to her on the bed of fir needles. One leg was extended and he wrapped his arms casually about the other at his chest. She glanced down and saw the long gilded dagger at his calf and lifted her eyes back to his. He cocked his eyebrow at her in a warning and then quietly commanded again, "Sing."

She began to sing a tune, making the words up as she went. Singing a song of a lost girl in the wood and the forest animals that she encountered on her way. She sang of the flowers and the birds that reminded her of love. As she continued she began to sing of how the girl had become lost in the realm of the faerie and that there was a man that came to her rescue, declaring his love to her and swearing that he would marry her upon their escape from the forest. Erlkin's eyes crinkled at the corners, revealing an almost human look to the alabaster face. He placed an irrevocable hand upon her arm, hauling her to her feet while never breaking contact with her eyes, causing her to stop mid-song.

The caress was surprisingly warm to her, causing goose bumps to rise on her flesh and a shiver to race through her slight figure. His golden-green eyes were almost too green. They were saturated, as if they had stared at green meadows and forest for so many millennia that they had absorbed their color as well. They were eyes that spoke to her without the assistance of words. Eyes that could lure and command an entire room all in the same glance. They spoke to her now, causing her to become weak with fatigue and longing. They seemed like they could overpower her any minute and then consume her in one long stroke, suppressing her will and pulling her under like quicksand. She had to shake her head to break contact with them and gain composure.

His smile faded and his voice grew harsh. "You should not be here human. This is a very dangerous part of the forest. You are lucky that I have found you and not some other faerie creature that would be nothing less than cruel. Humans are not typically welcome in the faerie realm."

"Please forgive my trespass." She pleaded once again.

"That I cannot! For, alas, I am bound."

A single tear streaked down her cheek, rounding to the edge of her jawline. And he took his gloved finger and traced its trail down to her chin then rubbed his fingers together till the tear began to sparkle like a diamond. Then he cast it into the sky where it settled as the first star of the evening. She watched in awe at his feat and then turned to face him again. His eyes were so luminous, they flowed like green liquid sap, swirling and reflective; ensnaring like a trap. She felt that she could drown in those eyes, trapped forever in the sap-green resin, like a preserved treasure.

"Are you sure you don't want to be lost?" He queried.

"I…." she couldn't think of a response to his question as she was so enchanted by his beauty, beginning to forget why she was even in the forest. But there was a small alarming feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach that she could not shake off. At that moment he grabbed ahold of her wrists and pulled her closer to himself. Those eyes devoured her will and she wanted to flee but felt that she was rooted to the ground. Panicked, she glanced passed his shoulder for an escape, but it was as if the wood itself was upon her and had ensnared her in its grasp. Even the trees looked as if they had intertwined their branches to create a huge wall with no opening for escape. His hand caressed her face. She felt her body sharply intake a breath. He leaned forward to deliver the lightest of kiss upon her lips. She felt the air suddenly grow thick with the smell of autumn leaves, pine and sap. It saturated her senses and stole at her breath. His arm wrapped about her waist, pulling her into him as his other hand laced into her hair. His embrace was strong and tight as he brought her into him, ever closer, but he also pulled her down to the forest floor at the same time.

He lifted his head from her swollen lips to whisper in her ear softly, "How you tease me with your song my beautiful lark. So beautiful…." He ran his hand over her hair, curling a strand about his finger. With one hand still about her waist, he stretched his hand out and gathered dead leaves and pine for them to sit upon. Some were the color of the brown earth, others the color of ochre and honey and lastly he was able to place some that were dark and black speckled with red; as crimson as blood.

He leaned her back into the newly fashioned bed. She wanted to fight him as her hands splayed upon his chest to push away, but upon the contact, they grew weak and numb. She could hear the reel of songbirds float above her head as if in protest as he leaned in to deliver his kiss of death.

"I will be merciful," he said as his lips hovered above her own. "But I cannot let you go my beauty."

She was unable to turn away from the green pools that beckoned her to swim in their depths. They seemed to have an unknown treasure lurking behind their surface that she was unnaturally compelled to explore. The inability to break from his kiss and grasp made her light-headed and giddy inside. She finally broke free and her voice tinkled with a nervous laughter and yet she still reached for his lips again, sinking down till she rested with her back on the ground facing up to him. And he continued to kiss her as he pulled out his beautiful jewel-encrusted faerie dagger from his calf. As he unsheathed the dagger and raised it, he whispered to her, "my lark." Then he thrust the dagger into her heart. She heard a piercing cry of a bird drowned out any other noise, even her own cry. The notes circled up above her and rose into the air as if it was the last bird in the entire forest searching for one of its own kind. And then she was gone. The dagger had transformed her girlish human figure into that of a lark. There she sat upon his leg, still in a daze. He placed her in his hand and began to collect some sticks to weave a cage for her, forever a prisoner for him, just like other singing birds that he had transformed for his labyrinth that had tried to warn her; like the nightingale.

"My sweet lark", the Goblin King whispered. "Now you will be mine forever."

She wanted to scream! She tried to scream but all she could hear was the shrill sound of a bird and then realized that it was herself. She was the bird making the shrill call of agony.


	3. Chapter 3

Lela's eyes flew open. She was screaming and someone was trying to pin her down. She fought and pressed against them, trying to free herself from their grasp about her arms. She continued to scream and sob at the same time. Tears streaking down her face.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

"My lady, my lady! Shh, it will be okay dearie!"

Lela's maid was sitting upon the edge of the bed trying to contain the flailing arms of the woman as she screamed from her nightmare, but the soft and calming words had not registered in Lela's mind yet. The struggle caused her strength to quickly dissipate and she felt as if her arms were weighted down with heavy stones. Every attempt to lift her arms to break free from the clasp of hands took even more energy from the last time till she fell back into the stack of pillows exhausted. Her chest was heaving profusely and she was soaked with sweat. She closed her eyes and her head rolled to the side, sleep claiming her once again. The maid pressed a cloth to Lela's forehead to sop up some of the sweat, crooning softly to her like a mother would do to a fussy child. The maid turned and rang out the moisture into a bowl that sat on the nightstand next to the bed. She then dipped a new cloth into another bowl with cool water and placed it on top of Lela's burning temples. She heard a slight shuffle and turned from her seated position on the bed, looking back to her master that was standing in the corner of the room, with arms crossed about his chest.

"Sir, her fever is growing worse. Shall I call the doctor once more?"

"Make it so," Jackson said, pushing off the wall and walking toward the woman that lay in the bed. Her long golden hair was soaked with sweat along with her thin dressing gown and her face was like death. He could see the thin blue veins in her neck and the rapid tick of her pulse. The rosy hue and the suppleness of her flesh was gone. She was more like a white sheet stretched over bone. A voice of the past resonated in the back of his mind, "_You will be her death or her health with give out on her!"_

The beauty of the young woman that he had rescued those six years ago, was rapidly fading to an ailment that he, nor any doctor, could determine the cause. "_She will not be able to survive without the magic_," the mocking memory of the voice rang out again in his mind. Jackson had noticed that her health had started to decline only a year after he rescued her. He had kept his promise and married her and they lived just outside London. It had been an adjustment for her in the beginning to live in a different time, for when the Goblin King had first found her, it was the 16th century and Jackson had returned her to the year 1889. Just a peasant girl from her time, the wealth of the gold and jewels he had stolen from the Goblin King had made him a very rich man in his time. He turned those small riches into even larger riches with investments and had managed to gain titles. With those titles came more opportunities, more money, and power. The sweet young man that had saved her slowly became corrupted by his wealth and power over others. He soon began to ignore his rescued bride, especially after she gave him a daughter instead of a son. After the birth of the child, the doctor told him that her body would not be able to support bearing more children. She was too frail and weak. Her condition continued to deteriorate as the months and years progressed. Jackson was gone most of the time anyway on business and travel, chasing after more power and prestige.

In the beginning he flaunted his beautiful wife. She was like an angel compared to any other woman he had encountered, but as her health began to fade, she became less and less appealing to him, as if the magical enchantment of her faded with her health. He left her at home with the child and the house staff. He took to going out more and more, surrounding himself with the aristocrats and business leaders of the known world, and other beautiful women. Young and healthy women that were all too eager to spend time with him and cater to his ego and pleasures, while Lela withered away from neglect and poor health. But what made her condition the worst was a broken heart, for the Goblin King had warned her and he was right. Jackson had traded her one gilded cage for another. The only difference was that she had the love of a child to keep her going. Their daughter, Odyna. She was almost five years old by now and growing quickly. She was talented in a variety of different areas and even more beautiful than her mother. Her eyes were a soft steely blue and her hair was even more golden than her mother's, as it looked like it was spun from pure gold. She would often sing and dance around and tell stories. As if she had absorbed the magic that once lived within her mother, her eyes flashed and danced with mischief and wonder. She would weave stories of princesses and fairies pretending to be all in one. She fell in love with the stories of that her nursemaid would read to her before bed of Peter Pan, the Grimm Fairy Tales and others. She would climb into her mother's bed and tell her stories and dreams that she had. But when Jackson had started to hear Odyna talk of fairies and folktales, he commanded the staff to pull all the books from the library and burned them in the fireplace. He forbade any talk of associated with the faerie realm or fantasy within the house or to his daughter, in an effort to shield his daughter from the truth. Lela's heart sank even more into despair from this act so she began to tell Odyna the stories in secret, but never did she speak of Erlkin. But his presence still lived within her.

Jackson watched Lela's eyelashes flutter in her sleep as she began to toss in her dreams again. She had been plagued by nightmares of Erlkin ever since they left his realm. It was like a curse, awaking to her screams night after night. It was like Erlkin was sending her nightmares on purpose, a perpetual curse for stealing his gold and, apparently, his favorite muse.

"No, no…."she was mumbling. Jackson smoothed down several strands of her hair from her head. She settled slightly and her mumbling became a jumble of words that he could not make out. The nightmares were all the time now and she was completely bedridden. "_Better to die with love than to be your slave",_ she had screamed to the Goblin King when he had saved her those many years ago.

"You just might get your wish, my love." he whispered to her sleeping figure. Even now, he refused the idea of returning her back to the Goblin King. Even if it would save her life he would not lose his pride to Erlkin by returning her to him. Jackson turned as he heard the door to the bedroom open and a small voice called out as a small sprite of a child came into the room, rubbing at eyes still full of sleep.

"Mama?" she whimpered as she headed toward the bed. As she recognized her father standing beside the bed next to her mother she called to him instead. "Papa."

She tip-toed quietly towards him, coming up just to his knee. She lifted her arms for him to pick her up. He looked down upon the golden curls and could not help but smile at his little girl.

"Papa, I had a bad dream." She snuggled up against his neck as he hefted her up into his arms. He smoothed down her hair with his hand and then lightly rubbed her back. She proceeded to stick her thumb into her mouth and to rest her head on his shoulder, eyes closed, snuggling into his warmth.

"What did you dream about my precious?" He inquired of her.

"Mama." The child said, plucking her thumb from her mouth. "Mama went through a door and died."

Jackson's heart hardened at the thought and he promptly left his wife's room. As he walked down the hallway he ran into Lela's maid just returning after having sent a manservant to fetch the doctor. Jackson curtly spoke to the maid, "Please put Odyna back to bed." He placed the small child into the arms of the maid and then disappeared downstairs and into his private study straight for the scotch decanter. The maid took the soft small body of the child within her arms and snuggled her closely for a second, as if she were her own. She turned to head to the child's nursery to put her back to bed when she hear her mistress call out again. She picked up her pace and rushed quickly to the nursery, placing the child in the soft white sheets, pulling the coverlet up and under her little chin. The child stared with wide eyes at the maid and then queried the older woman, "Is Mama going to die?"

"Oh my sweet little one. The doctor is on his way right now to help her." The maid said as she wanted to comfort the child, even though in her heart she knew that the situation was grim. She patted the child's little hand and placed a kiss upon her little set of curls that peaked out from the mound of pillows and blankets. The maid smoothed them down around the child, not wanting to leave her alone with the fears of her mother dying despite the truth of the matter.

"I will come back and sit with you as soon as I help your mother. She is calling and needs me. Okay?"

The little face blinked huge eyes toward the maid and nodded her head. The nurse patted her hand once again and then rose and left, heading back to Lela's room.

Lela's eyes slowly opened, but they felt exceptionally heavy and it took such effort to keep them open. She was in a different night gown than the one she had remembered putting on and the covers were drawn up high about her neck. A damp cloth rested upon her forehead. The bed was coated with several blankets and there was a large healthy fire in the fireplace to the left of the bed. Despite the efforts to keep the room warm, Lela felt as if she were in a tub of ice and there was no more warmth left within her. She sighed softly and even that small action felt like it stole half her energy. She wished that the fire was twice as large so that she did not feel so cold. It was a cold that seemed to originate within her bones and seep outward. It flooded her body straight to the core, even her blood, to the point that she felt like her heartbeat was slowing down to a torpid rhythm. It robbed her of energy and even her thoughts. Everything just took so much effort that she really just wished for sleep; wished for an endless sleep. A sleep with pleasant dreams and continual warmth.

She was almost on the verge of sleep once again when as the nurse came back into the room. She settled her plump person next to her still form on the bed. She picked up the cloth from her forehead and dipped it into the cool water and replaced it on Lela's forehead once more.

"No." Lela's mouth formed the word but no sound came out as she tried to lift her hand and swat away the cloth from the maid.

"I must mistress, your fever is growing worse by the minute and you are burning up. The doctor is on his way but I fear that…."Her voice trailed off and she placed the cloth upon Lela's forehead despite the weak attempt at preventing it. "I must get your fever down," the maid insisted loudly. _Or you will die, s_he silently whispered in her head.

Lela opened her eyes to the middle aged woman again and tried to whisper, but the maid did not hear her. Lela tried again, drawing on all her strength. She tried to clear her dry throat and pulled both hands outside the perimeter of the soft-down blanket. With all her might, she pulled herself up to a sitting position in the bed.

The maid gasped. "My lady!"

"Water," Lela's mouth formed the word that was barely audible and her head fell back deep into the pillows and her eyes closed with weakness. She felt a cold, damp glass being pressed into her hot hands and felt them being guided up to her mouth.

"Water, my lady. Please drink!" Lela lifted her head even though the effort took much of her energy and she felt like she was weighted down with boulders. She was able to take only a sip when she began to cough. A pain seized her chest and sides and her face contorted in pain. The cough came from deep within her lungs and she doubled over in the spasms and pain. The maid quickly scrambled from the bed and patted Lela's back and rubbed at the same time. Lela felt like she was drowning, as she was unable to catch her breath between the spasms. Then she felt something like bile rise up in the back of her throat while she coughed and it began to emit itself from her mouth.

"Oh Lord!" Lela heard the maid exclaim through the coughing and choking sounds that she made. When the spasms slowed down and she collapsed back into the pillows she looked down the length of her form in the bed and saw bright crimson coating her lap. It was like crushed berries on a bed of fresh snow.

"Oh Lord, my lady. Oh Lord. I must get the master." She picked up the cloth and dabbed at Lela's mouth, trying to clean up the blood that trickled down the side. "Oh where is that doctor by now?"

Lela shook her head in slow motion and then motioned with her weak hand to her vanity. She was so weak now that she thought her voice would fail her completely. The maid drew her ear close to Lela's mouth. Lela's soft voice was like a melody, even in her sickness. It tinkled like a bell but was pleading, "The key, Matilda. Please get me the key."

"The key, my Lady?" The maid shook her head_. The poor child is hallucinating in her sickness. And now blood! I must tell the master, for I think this might just be the end._

Lela's chest began to fluctuate again and her body revolted against her as she was wracked with coughing and pain. A streak of blood escaped from the corner of her mouth, tracing a pathway down her chin. She tried to raise the white sheet to her mouth to wipe it away, but the maid was placing the cloth close to her mouth to catch it for her. After the coughing subsided, the white cloth was dusted with large crimson blots of blood where it had touched Lela's pale lips.

"Oh my Lady!"

A burst of determined strength came over Lela as she gripped the hand of the nurse and she spoke with force and purpose. "There is no time Matilda, go to my vanity. Please, I need the key and to get to the painted door."

"I don't know what you are talking about, my lady. There is no key. You are sick and speaking nonsense in your sickness."

Lela stared hard at the maid understanding that she might not be able to help her.

"Get my daughter!" Lela instructed her. But the maid continued to sit there flustered at the sickened woman and her strange instructions. "Get her now!" Lela's voice rose in a strong command that drained her of strength. She rested her head back again the pillows as the maid rushed from the room and down the hallway. Lela was unsure if Matilda would actually follow her instruction or if she was headed down to fetch Jackson. Either way, it did not matter. Lela pushed the covers from herself and rolled from the bed. She fell in a heap, causing a loud thump upon the floor. Her hand had reached out to try and grab the nightstand for balance but it grazed the porcelain bowl with water instead, sending it crashing to the floor where it shattered into hundreds of small white pieces. Lela pulled herself to a standing positon with the help of the nightstand and the edge of the bed. She leaned against it to steady herself before proceeding to the end. Her blue eyes set upon her vanity at the other end of her room. She needed to reach it. She needed to get to the jewelry case within the false bottom that held the key. She stepped forward, pieces of porcelain pierced her skin and she winced in pain.

She cried out slightly from the pain as the splinters sank into the soft skin of her feet but she was determine to continue despite the pain. She raised up on her tip-toes to evade the other pieces that had scattered toward the end of the bed but the effort weakened her tremendously and she stumbled into the end of the poster bed, grabbing it and sinking to the floor. Then her body began to spasm with coughing and pain again. This time the pain was far worse and the coughing seemed to last an eternity. She sank into herself as her body convulsed under its own accord and devoid of her will. She was coughing so hard now that blood coated the front of her sheer night gown. Her coughing began to subside and she heard muffled sounds coming from down the hallway.

The key! A strong voice screamed in her head. Before he can stop you, you must get up and get the key! Her will was strong and she forced herself to a standing position. Just as she took several steps toward her vanity, the maid entered the room again with Odyna in her arms.

"No, no my lady, you are too sick to be out of bed." The maid rushed further into the room and placed the child quickly to the floor. "I must get you back to bed, the doctor is on his way and will be here any minute to help you."

"Stop!" Lela commanded with a raised hand. "Do not come any closer to me. There is no help for me here."

"Mama?" The child walked forward passed the maid and toward her mother, but the maid put a hand out and held the child back. She turned to the little girl and spoke to her in a calm way. "Run downstairs and get your father. I need his help to get your mother back into bed. She is very unwell."

The child stared up at her mother's pale face, pausing to study it. She didn't want to leave her mother because everything that had happened in her nightmare was starting to come true. She bit her little lip as tears began to form in her eyes.

"Didn't you hear me Odyna?" The maid said to her, "Go and get your father." The maid pushed at the little girl's shoulders toward the exit. The girl began to cry and quickly ran from the room. She must be quick about getting her father.

"Papa, Papa!" She screamed as she ran down the hallway and to the top of the stairs. "Papa, help!"


	4. Chapter 4

Beezum was quite comfortable sitting at a small table that he had next to the great painted door. After the two hundred year mark of guarding the door, Beezum had finally settled into a comfortable routine of guarding the door and still maintaining his duties as head steward of the castle. Though he could not be there physically, he had developed a working system of goblin runners that reported all the castle activities and needs. His staff complied with all his requests of maintaining the books and ledgers from his post and never seemed to complain as he was very efficient at his work, even from afar. They actually preferred that he was away from the castle because they were no long under his scrutiny and since he had always been fair, they continued to follow his leadership.

Beezum was seated at a small table and in a comfortable chair working on the castle supply list when he heard a great sound from behind him. The door sparked to life with a magical energy and a deep groaning noise began to emit from it. The suddenness of the door springing to life startled the goblin right from his chair. He fell in a chaotic heap and scrambled behind the desk, slightly fearful of what might be revealed after it opened. But Beezum had not forgotten that Erlkin wished to be notified as soon as the door was opened. He quickly scrambled his closest runner and told him to inform the king that the Eastern painted door was finally opening after five hundred years.

In a great hall, Erlkin was seated upon his throne. It was a massive in size, placed at the farthest end of the great hall, making the elf look small in size compared to its greatness. It was constructed of the strongest, hardest and oldest of all the tree types that grew in his woodland realm. It was a type of ironwood that was black as a starless night, so deeply onyx and smooth that it reflected everything that came close to it or that was carved upon it. It was the same type of wood that the painted doors were constructed of that sat at all the corners of his kingdom, marking his realm in the land of faerie and borders to the mortal world. It was fashioned from one solid tree and the long branches has been twisted and intertwine to form sweeping patterns that spanned outward and upward I the form of an great circle and an inner-semi circle to honor the sun and the crescent moon. Linking both elements was an inner-circle shape of the labyrinth symbol, tracing one single continuous path that lead to a large white starlight diamond. The diamond hung just above Erlkin's head and symbolized the treasures that the labyrinth contained.

The actual throne that he was seated upon was carved into the base of the ironwood tree. The crafters that carved it had made sweeping armrests comprised of rising oak leaves, acorns and berries to honor the season of the harvest and symbolize the abundance of the forest and all that it could provide. Near the back and along the base were never-ending knot patterns and images of the animals that resided in the forest and meadows which he had domain over beyond the labyrinth and out to the corners of his kingdom.

He sat languidly in at the great throne, but none of his subjects would have guess at his relaxed state as he was still poised physically. He would not stand for any subject to question his attention or authority based on stature. He stared out upon the expanse of the throne room at nothing in particular. The room did have a daily buzz associated with it but none of the activity required his involvement or attention to maintain its flow, thus it faded into the peripheral of his mind. His green eyes flittered across the room taking in all the details until they rested upon the opposite wall fashioned of great and massive stones. They housed two enormous fire pits large enough to place full-sized trees for burning.

He leaned back slightly into the throne, till the onyx of the chair melded with the onyx of his garb. His face was poised and regal, still upright and authoritative, but he allowed all of his being to relax as he watched the fire dance across the tops of the logs in the hearths. They swirled and twisted as they consumed the wood. It reminded him of the hunt and the thrill of the chase. They curled tendrils around the edges of the logs licking the sides till they chipped away the layers leaving red hot embers. Flames shot up sending off tiny explosions of light and sound. Sparks set off like fireworks and they reflected the gold color in his eyes, even at such a great distance.

He was momentarily entranced by the dancing flames before him, as if they beckoned him to join them in their fevered destruction. He saw sparks test their limits as they attempted to jump from the pit and ride the wind out in search of another material to light upon. They saw a leaf skitter by but it was just out of their reach and they turned to freckles of ash once they touched the stone floor. It was a lone leaf that had somehow managed to find itself lost in the great hall, like many of the visitors that found themselves lost in the wood of his great realm. With a flicker of his wrist, he skipped the leaf up off the stone floor and danced it down toward him. He set it upon a light wind and made it mimic the dance of the flames before it. When the flames turned, the leaf turned. When the flames dipped low and leapt, the leaf did it in unison. When the flames twisted, he twisted the leaf in an upward column as well. It was a cathartic way to entertain himself for the moment. As a crescendo, he sent the leaf dancing higher and higher and higher till it just barely touched the ceiling and then he let it sail downward in an easy spiral pattern, engaging in a dance of death as so many do when winter comes, eager to be consumed by the earth and turned into a moist hummus for spring to devour.

But as it turned in midair, something familiar caught his eye and he stopped the leaf and held it still, as if it were hanging from a gossamer thread. Looking at it he pulled it closer and closer till it was resting lightly above his hand. It was a five pointed leaf and it was a black with crimson speckles of red cast upon it; a blood-tinged death leaf. It was the same type of leaf that he had used to construct a bed when he had found her. The lost girl he had changed into Lark. _Lark._ He cast the leaf away from him and sent it into the fire where he watched the flames attack it like wolves, readying to rip it apart and consume it. But then he changed his mind and quickly rescued it from the flames, only barely singed. He brought it up toward him again, spinning it casually near him.

His eyes once again glazed over, the still turning leaf becoming an afterthought, when he heard something. He scanned the room and craned his neck, listening for it again, but only hearing the hissing and crackling of the fire. He could have sworn he heard something, a familiar sound but one that he had not heard in hundreds of years. He only relaxed slightly, not one to be counter intuitive to his hunter instincts when they were awakened. Then he heard it again. It was louder and more defined, followed by a gust of unfamiliar wind. The smell on the wind was of mortal blood and it flooded his hall and flipping the leaf that he had been spinning, sending it crashing to the stone floor.

It was like slow motion that the realization hit him that it was a wind that came from the door, _HER_ door. It was the door at the East end of the kingdom. He could feel the ripple of the door as it began to push into the landscape of his kingdom. He startled to his feet just as a goblin runner entered the great hall, calling out to him.

"Great King, word has come from Beezum at the Eastern boundary. The door has been unlocked."


	5. Chapter 5

The Painted Door

Chapter Five

The maid stepped back into the room but Lela had made it to her vanity by then. The vanity was elegantly carved in mahogany with a large mirror and several drawers. Lela ripped open the top drawer, pushing its content out and onto the floor. Once they were out she lifted the soft blue velvet bottom to revel a false bottom. Inside there was a small wooden box with a round labyrinth symbol upon it. She had found the key hidden in Jackson's study several years before and had retrieved it. She hired a woodcarver to create the custom box for it so that she may take it out and look up it whenever she wished, but that was before she had become so ill.

The maid was at her side now, placing a small but firm hands on either side of her elbows. She glanced around her Lela's body and looked as Lela opened the wooden case. Inside she caught the glimmer of red as the jeweled key reflected the light once the case's top fell open. The maid gasped at its stunning beauty and deep crimson red color.

"There my lady, you found your key!" The maid said as she tried to guide Lela back to the bed, but then noticed the porcelain scattered about the floor. Lela shrugged off the woman's hands and pulled the key out from the soft black satin fabric that enveloped it. She stepped in the opposite direction from the way of the bed and turned to the wall. She grabbed hold of the bed poster steadying herself as she felt her body start to grow weaker and her strength begin leave her. Her head started to spin and she felt dizzy. She knew there was not much time.

With a rapid motion, she thrust the key out as if placing the key into a keyhole and then turned it to the right. A glittering light spilled forth from the empty space before her as the light rolled down, sheer at first but slowing becoming solid as it crept down to the floor. Lela stepped back as the painted door took its shape. The large frame with its scrolling carved wood of oak leaves, vines and berries went from a translucent impression to a deep rich color of hardwood. The magic flowed downward revealing the huge door with its painted mosaic patterns.

Matilda, the maid, was crouching down upon the floor gathering up the large pieces of the porcelain that had scattered on the floor after Lela had accidently knocked the bowl down. She was muttering something to herself when she noticed the golden and glittering light as it quickly spread out from behind her, lighting up the floor about her feet. She stood up and turned around to see Lela leaning against the bed poster before a massive door that was nearly complete. The glittering light continued to spill forth and build the door till it reached its last path toward completion. The light laced a thin pathway up the center of the door and traced a pattern in a circle until it form the labyrinth symbol.

Lela turned to Matilda and yelled to her. "Help me push the door open Matilda!"

Matilda was dumbfounded at the sight before her. Never once in her 63 years had she ever been witness to a sight such as this and it took several seconds for her to register Lela's words. Lela pushed herself from the bed poster and began to push the door open but she was very weak and began to slide down against its great weight. As Matilda watched her mistress start to sink to the floor, she rushed to her side and helped her to stand once again. She too pushed all of her weight against the door and together they made headway. "I can't!" Lela cried as tears began to streak down her face, sinking at the foot of the door. "He was right, don't you see?"

"Who was right, my lady?" Matilda said as she continued to push on the door. "Do you mean my lord Jackson?"

"He…Erl…" Lela began, but cut herself off, fearful of completing his name after so many years. Jackson had forbade her to ever say anything about those fateful events, the painted door or the labyrinth. The poor clueless maid was so perplexed by Lela's words and the fact that a door magically appeared before them that she just focused on the task at hand of pushing the door open. For all she knew, she might be rewarded with a ruby key just like her mistress possessed if they managed to get it open.

Suddenly small fingers appeared on the other side of the door and swung it open wide to reveal bright daylight of the woodland elf realm. The realm of the Goblin King. Two small goblins could be seen moving cautiously away from the door and retreating further back into their world, fearful of what awaited them at the now open painted door. Matilda took one look at them and let out a loud frightened scream and ran away from the door and out toward the hallway where she ran into the little form of Odyna. They collided but Odyna was quickly up again, heading into the room after her mother. Matilda scrambled up and chased after the small child warning her to stay away. That scary monsters lived in the door. As they entered the room again, they witnessed as Lela stepped over the threshold and into the bright light of the door.

Odyna broke free of the protective hands of the maid and rushed the door, her little hand extended and screaming. "Mama! Mama!" The child was just about to enter the door when her father suddenly appear behind her and swung her away, holding her tightly in his arms.

Lela turned, her hand equally extended out to her crying daughter. She stood there, tears cascading down her face as she whispered her name. "Odyna."

Shocked registered on Jackson's face as he continued to watch Lela through the door. Her thin body was a shadow through the sheer nightgown as it filtered the sunlight from the faerie realm. The wind picked up her golden hair and gently swayed it around in spite of the chaos that ripped through the rooms. She looked pale and beautiful as the air of the faerie realm sparkled with a hint of magic; a myriad of little specks of light, dust and pollen blowing about her, wheeling and circling. Despite the thrashing of his child in his arms and her cries, Jackson's voice rang out loudly in the room and through the painted door, for he still did not wish to lose her back to the Goblin King.

"No, Lela! Noooo!"

"Erlkin!" Lela managed to whisper as her body began a slow cascade to the ground. Midair, a swirl of black fog manifested beside Lela's falling figure, temporarily blocking out the light of the woodland realm's, quickly forming into the black leather-clad shape of the Goblin King. He had managed to partially catch Lela's frame in his arms, sinking her slowly to the ground. She began to cough once again, but this time a large amount of blood came forth from her mouth and down her neckline. Erlkin stared down at the shaking and convulsing form of the girl he had once called Lark. His head snapped upward in rage and his eyes seethed with an untold anger as he looked across the chasm at Jackson.

"You did this to her!" His voice hissed as he sank to the ground and gathered her lifeless form in his lap, wild green eyes still on Jackson. She was incredibly light to him, as if picking up the feather of one of his songbirds. The nightgown she wore was as sheer as a whisper and clung to her soft body like dew on the petals of a morning glory. Its sheerness revealed how gaunt she had become, her rib cage and hip bones protruding from the parchment that was her skin. He surveyed the mess that was once his most beautiful muse and rage and anguish began to blossom in his chest.

"My sweet lark!" He whispered in her ear. "My lark."

He tore off his black glove from his hand and placed it upon her face. The flesh burned against his cool hand like a brand. He waved his hand over her body and then placed his hand upon her chest, confirming that her body was too far gone to save or to change again. His magic could not save her. Her eyes fluttered open and her breathing was growing shallower with each passing second. She tried to lift her hand to touch his face but she did not have the strength. He grabbed ahold of it, guiding it to his lips, lightly kissing her fingertips.

"Lela."

"I'm… sorry." She whispered softly to him, through labored breaths.

Erlkin lowered his mouth and placed the softest of kisses upon her lips.

"I should have told you long ago." He said to her with a caress of his hand upon her cheek. A tear made a trek down her cheek and to her chin to mingle with the blood still there. He traced the tear, capturing it and rubbed it between his fingers. Once again it sparkled like a diamond and he cast it up into the sky where it turned into a star. A slight smile came to her lips and then they seemed to shift focus and gaze on something passed him, possibly her star. From beyond the labyrinth, the lament filled song of a nightingale rose up on the air and Lela's blue eyes lost their light. Erlkin continued to stare down at her lifeless body, not moving. After several minutes he squared his shoulders and ripped the bloodied fabric from her body. Then he removed his black cloak, wrapping her in it and gathered her into his arms. He stood ever so slowly, as if not to break her. He stormed over to the inwardly swung door and yanked out the crimson-jeweled key from the keyhole. He could hardly contain the rage within him as he looked down at the dead woman in his arms and then back to Jackson.

Dark clouds rose up from the horizon, stretching out passed the hedges of the labyrinth, gathering like dark riders intent on blotting out the sun. He called upon the thunder and rain, swirling them in the sky, drenching the entirety of his kingdom with his grief and rage. Lightening crackled through the sky, cutting paths of light through the darkness, whistling and snapping like a whip, over and over again till they stretched boney fingers down to fell trees with explosions of light and sparks. Plumes of acrid smoke rose into the air. Bright flames sputtered to life to claim the bodies of the fallen trees, resistant to the sheets of rain and hail that pummeled the landscape.

Lastly, in the ancient language, he called upon the winds. He whirled his back upon the onlookers across the chasm and walked toward the labyrinth. A fierce and mighty wind violently rose up, slamming the painted door closed.


	6. Chapter 6

The Painted Door

Chapter 6

"Oh father, it is simply stunning!" a nineteen year old Odyna exclaimed as her father presented a ring to her. It really was a stunning piece of craftsmanship, one that she would not be familiar with or recall, if he could help it. The fateful night that her mother returned to the Goblin King was nearly fifteen years ago and Jackson had managed to convince his young daughter that anything that she had seen or remembered from that night was merely a dream. After years and years of avoidance and cajoling, she ceased the inquiries and questions and eventually accepted it as truth that her mother had passed during the night and she had manifested horrible nightmares as a result of the loss. Jackson felt that it was safer that way. It would protect her not knowing the real truth.

Odyna cradled the ring in her hand, turning it over and inspecting its intricate details. It was solid gold and had the most detailed carvings upon it of vines, berries, and leaves that interlaced with an endless Celtic knot work. In the center of ring and its crowning achievement was a beautiful, but unfamiliar, stone that was the brightest of forests greens that had flickers of gold specks inside of it. It reminded her of a cat's eye as it reflected the light as she rotated it. She rushed to her father and flung her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly.

"It is so beautiful! I cannot thank you enough for such a lovely gift."

"The first of many. It is not every day that your only daughter gets engaged to be married." Her father remarked as he looked to Charles and clapped him on the back. Charles Thorpe was a perfect match for his daughter and would make an ideal son-in-law. He was the son of Edward Marston Thorpe, a banker and investment partner from New York. Jackson and Edward shared several investment projects together, including backing the new technology being developed to improve industry and transportation. The younger son was being bred to follow after his father in banking, stocks, bonds and investments. The senior Thorpe had hopes of expanding his American empire further west and was looking into the railways and steel investments to accomplish this.

The young apprentice had finished his formal education and his first several years of banking in New York when his father had sent him to manage offices in London. While there, his father sent an informal request to Jackson to introduce him to members of the British Regency. Charles visited their home often and attended events with them on more than one occasion. Other parties began to whisper that something might be in the planning for the two families and agreements eventually developed. Odyna was not opposed to the young man that often spent time at her home. He was tall and handsome with a quick smile, a hearty laughter and kind disposition. He was honorable and well-mannered, especially in her presence. He would often walk the gardens with her and quote snippets of poetry that he knew. His eyes twinkled with a sky blue color against auburn hair and a face that was sprinkled with light freckles. He looked several years younger than his twenty eight years. It had not taken her long to look upon his face with soft, blooming feelings. His stolen kisses were light and made her heart flutter.

Odyna turned to her betrothed. She offered him up the ring for him to place upon her delicate finger. "A gem that only enhances your beauty, my dear," he responded affectionately, sliding the ring upon the middle finger of her left hand, as it was too large for her ring finger. After placing it, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. She blushed at the sentiment Charles so willingly displayed in front of her father.

But her father just smiled and clapped Charles' back again in satisfaction of a well-designed marriage that was sure to maintain, if not enhance, their prestige and power. Jackson gave a nod of his top hat and excused himself from the couple as he noticed other important party guests arriving and was eager to greet them.

Odyna laced her arm through Charles' as they stepped down the stone steps and began to walk the garden. Jackson and Charles' father had decided to hold a ball in honor of the upcoming marriage. All of the most important members of society would be in attendance to celebrate. Before the vast majority arrived to congratulate them, she wished to spend some time alone with Charles, for she knew the night would be long with endlessly filled dance cards, introductions, and other merriments that would keep the couple from being alone with each other.

They walked down stone steps that gave them a bird's eye view of the expanse of the garden below with its varieties of summer flowers currently in bloom. They hovered briefly by the expanse of the rose garden that was nestled directly above the path that lead to the hedge maze. Walking slowly, with her arm resting gently in the crook of Charles' arm, they passed large rose bushes in a variety of colors, her favorite being yellow. Their scent lingered on the air like a heavy perfume and she could not help but drown her lungs in it. She stopped them in front of one of the bushes and lightly touched a bloom, rubbing her finger tips between the velvet of its petal. It was soft and luxurious to her touch.

"Permit me?" Charles inquired as he leaned passed her and snapped the bloom from the bush. He plucked away at two thorns that adorned the stem and then presented the flower before her. She reached her hands to take it from him and their fingers lingered together. She cast her stare down quickly as her cheeks began to feel hot with a blush. A nervous fluttering feeling began in the middle of her chest, causing her breath to increase and her throat to suddenly feel dry. She swallowed in an effort to make the dryness disappear, and her pink tongue darted out wetting her lips.

Charles could not help but notice as the color rose in her pale cheeks and when she wet her suddenly chapped lips his heart skipped a beat. Charles drew her hand, still holding the rose, closer to his chest near his heart as he leaned his face down to her lips. He just lightly kissed them, his mouth hovering about hers. He could feel the heat of her mouth and shallow breath on his lips and it only enflamed his desire to kiss her more deeply. His free hand caressed her face and then slipped behind her to cradle her head and uplifted mass of golden curls. He could feel where her large silver and seed pearl hair combs pushed against his hand. He pulled her mouth to his own and kissed her deeply, caressing the inside of her mouth with his tongue and robbing her lungs of much needed air. When he finished, he left her lips slightly swollen and her knees weak.

She offered up a nervous laughter at the moment they had just exchanged. He had never been at liberty to kiss her in that manner before and it pleasantly startled her. Her nervous laughter tinkled like the silver bells placed on the carriage horses at Christmas time. He reached to pull her close to him again when a mischievous look lit upon her heart-shaped face. She broke free from his hold and reached for a white lace kerchief that was tucked up her sleeve. She slowly pulled it out and waved it before his sky blue eyes. Then she swiftly turned, picking up her long skirts and running to the entrance of the hedge maze. Charles watched as if time had slowed to a snail's pace as her beautiful form was enveloped in the evening sunshine. Flecks of seed, dust and pollen reflected in the sunlight around her like glitter. She wore a beautiful summer dress that was royal blue and white stripes. The striping of the gown was rather thin, so the impression was of a white gown, but it rippled random ribbons of blue as she moved. The bodice had a squared neckline that accentuated the hollow of her neck and collarbone and Charles longed to trace a trail of kisses along it. The flounced sleeves and peplum were line with blue satin and fluttered furiously in her rush to the maze. About her waist was a large blue ribbon. She was a vision of wonder as she paused briefly at the opening, flashing a white grin before disappearing behind the tall yew and dwarf boxwood hedges. The hedges to the maze were at least eight feet tall and three feet thick, enough to shield her entire body from his sight. He started for her immediately but then paused when he heard the musical sound of her voice.

"You may have another kiss if you can catch me in the center of the maze!"

The corner of Charles' mouth turned up at the challenge but he gave her several seconds to race further into the maze. It would be unfair if he broke out into a full-fledged run, even though he wished to, because he would have caught his prize before she even passed the second hedge. "I shall count to twenty to give you a head start!" he called out loudly. "One….two….three…four…"

Odyna turned and looked after herself as she pressed on into the maze, rounding corners and making turns. It was a beautiful summer evening and a soft fog was beginning to roll in that was cooling to her touch as she rushed through tunnels and past a couple of cupid statues poised with bows ready. She only hit a dead end once as she anxiously hurried to the center of the maze as fast as her legs would permit her. She needed a bit of time before Charles would appear because the kiss had scared her and thrilled her all at the same time. She could still hear Charles counting loudly. "Eleven….twelve…thirteen…"

She laughed, calling out again. "Come and get me!" Then she threw up her kerchief and tried to send it above the hedges, teasing the man as he began the maze.

"Twenty!" Charles called to her from the entrance of the maze. "I can see your kerchief, my love!"

"Then come and collect your kiss!" she laughed again. She was nearly to the center now, which she was grateful for because running in her corseted dress had caused her to become winded. She sat upon the edge of the marble fountain in the middle of the maze. It was large and circled with a giant arching fish that was spewing water from his mouth. The fish was fashioned of bronze that had a beautiful green patina on it from years of exposure to the elements. Inside the fountain, water lilies basked in the evening sun. Their flowers gently glided on top of the water in shades of white and yellow. Odyna placed the yellow rose to her side and leaned back on her arms as she waited for Charles to find her. The rippling of the water drove her attention to look as the water leaped from the fish's mouth and sloshed into the fountain, causing the pads to rock gently upon the surface like small boats upon a lake. She half turned and leaned to dip her left hand into the water and feel it coolness. She swayed her fingers in the water and then her whole hand. She loved the feel of the water and how it pulled to and fro, counter to her pushing and pulling in the water. She stopped moving her hand and stared into the water. She looked at her beautiful new ring and caught several small fish darting passed out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes drifted back to the beauty of the ring as she began to sway her hand again.

Suddenly, she saw what looked like two large black eyes come looming up from the hazy bottom of the fountain towards her hand. Her eyes widened at the sight as the black, unblinking, orbs were attached to a large bulbous pointed nose and a brownish-green muted skin. Just as suddenly as the face seemed to pop up into view, it sank back down. She craned her neck all around, wondering what it could have been and where it could have disappeared to in the water, when she felt something latch onto her wrist and fiercely pull.

"Ahhh!" she called out, taking her off guard and lurching her forward toward the water. She tried to pull back with her body and brace herself with her right hand against the base of the fountain where she sat. But the grip of whatever had her arm possessed tremendous might for it increased in its strength and gave her several more hard yanks before it pulled her into the water with a large splash.

Water enveloped her entire body, soaking her dress and hair. She quickly kicked her feet, her free arm flailing in the water and air as she tried to stand up in the fountain. Whatever had pulled on her arm had let go once she landed in the water. She scrambled in the shallow pool, drenched to the core with mocking lily pads swirling and tangled about her in the disturbed water. She could feel the water from the mouth of the fish as it cast droplet at her back.

"Ugh!" She cried out in a wet shock. The water was cold and she was sopping wet from head to foot. The combs from her hair were half falling out, entirely askew. The white and blue dress was smeared in random places with algae and slime from where it had grazed the fountain's bottom. She waded to the edge, readying herself to climb out when she felt something latch onto her ankle. It felt slimy and soft but strong. It yanked down on her leg and then began to pull her downward into the fountain.

Odyna let out a scream, but she was not permitted enough time to manifest words. Whichever kind of creature had her leg slipped her under the water in a matter of seconds. Water spilled over into her face and eyes and she quickly shut them. She sucked down water into her lungs as she was pulled under and what little air she had was not enough as she began to panic in the water. She flailed her arms and tried to kick frantically around to get to the surface for more air. But instead of heading to the surface, she felt herself going deeper and deeper into the water. She opened her eyes to see the light at the surface of the water receding before her and blackness beginning to rise like tall dark trees. She could just barely make out a figure at the surface of the water dipping in a hand in an attempt to find her. She knew it was Charles and struggled even harder for freedom, but her lungs were set ablaze with a fire from lack of air. She could not hold her mouth closed any longer, choking in a large amount of water into her lungs, then everything suddenly went black.


	7. Chapter 7

The Painted Door

Chapter Seven

Something was shaking her and squeezing water from her chest. She sputtered and coughed up huge amounts of water. Rolling over to her side she proceeded to puke out fountain water and suck down air. She could not open her eyes, her body ached all over and seared with pain. She felt herself being rolled onto her back again, the pressure on her chest again and again. A numbness and cold feeling crept over her limbs, spreading like a winter frost. Her mind drifted off into unconsciousness. She was grateful for the blackness, her lungs did not hurt as much anymore.

Odyna gasped and sucked in for air. Her body still believing that it was being drown, she recoiled upward in an arching manner and then the pain and fatigue enveloped her body and she rolled to the side. She balled herself up into a fetal position and the pain slightly eased. She gulped in deep breaths of air, her brain screaming with alarm and panic. It screamed her desperate need for oxygen but at the same time it also screamed that she was alive. There was no controlling the involuntary action of her shaking frame as it filled her lungs and blood with much deprived air. Slowly her body's convulsions began to subside and in its stead took up a fierce shiver. She was freezing and wet, encased in her drenched dress. She could barely open her eyes and when she did, there was barely any light in her surroundings for her to make anything out. She closed her eyes again and slept.

She had dreams of tadpoles that turned into giant frogs that chased her as she tried to frantically swim away. She would randomly open her eyes and see giant black eyes and then fade again into a panicked nightmare of darting fish and strange water creatures intent on her death. It felt like it was hours that she would open her eyes and then blackness would consume her vision again, but for all she knew, it could have been minutes. Her body finally jolted awake when she felt a pulling upon her middle finger of her left hand. _It is trying to get my ring_, her mind slowly registered_. My ring_! Her brain possessively screamed in the back of her head.

She came to, opening her blue eyes. She was curled and lying to her side. Looming near her was a creature about half her size with a large head, spindle thin arms that seemed too long in the arms and too short in the legs, but they were sinew, as she could see the cuts and sculpts in the muscle tissue. Whatever the creature was before her, it was definitely not human, as its skin look like that of a frog, smooth and with a hint of a wet sheen. It looked like it was slimy to the touch as it dripped a translucent liquid from creases and corners. She could not help but emit a sound of disgust and protest, resulting in a confrontation of two large black orbs peering into her face. The creature temporarily stopped its pull on her finger and scowled down at her.

"Give me that ring!" It growled at her. "My fingers are too slippery to take it off and I need it."

Odyna used what little strength she had to push herself into a sitting position. She was taken aback by the thing in front of her that she suddenly could not remember what it wanted from her and her head was pounding with an immense pain that seems to blot out everything. She surveyed the space around her, it was dark like a cave and full of random things that looked to be coated in mud. The walls were made of a mix of sticks, logs, grasses and mud and it had a dirt floor. If there was a door to the space, she was unsure of where it lived. There was a single candle burning in the room that was cradled in a large lily pad leaf, its wax slowly dripping down the length of it.

"Did you not hear me mortal?" The thing flashed yellow pointed teeth in a snarl and leaned in closer. "I need that ring right now. I will not miss the Winter Solstice this year."

"What?" She questioned confusingly. "Winter Solstice? But it is summer!"

"Stupid human, just give me the ring so that I may be on my way. You will stay here and I will come back for you later."

Odyna studied the sight before her. The creature was a murky green color with long ears that pointed to the back of his large head, and not skyward. It had either an algae or water grass hat on its head or those elements just naturally sprouted from its top, but there were random wisps of black thread-like hairs about his crown as well. It was wrapped in a garb made of water grass and moss and it had large feet and a hunch on its back. Its fingers were long and boney but apparently wet and slimy with black fingernails.

"Well?" It poked its face into hers. Its breath smell of rotting fish and sludge. She could not help but turn her face away from his and gag at the stench. She did not have time to even cover her mouth before her body threw up what little contents she contained in her stomach all over his dirt floor. The creature hopped back in surprise and then grabbed at her wrist and tried to pry the ring off again, but his fingers emitted a slime and the ring merely eluded his grasp.

"It is my ring, you cannot have it." She said defiantly as she regained her composure. She took the wet sleeve of her dress and wipe at her mouth. Pushing off the ground she began to stand. "I demand that you let me go and take me back."

The water creature turned and looked at the candle upon the lily pad and shook its head. Then it turned gleaming black eyes back upon her. It reached forward and latched onto her wrist and then turned and started to drag her. She lurched forward and fell, hitting her hip bone on the ground. She let out a yelp as she collided with the dirt floor and spun, coating herself and her wet dress with brown rich dirt. The wetness of her dress darkened the dirt and quickly turned it into smeared mud. The creature did not stop its pull as it dragged her to the side of the hobble it resided in and pushed on the side. The sticks and mud suddenly opened, revealing a passage way to the outside.

The creature began to mutter as it pulled her from its home. "I do not have time to wrestle with you human. The winter solstice is tonight and I have not attended the festivities in centuries. I will give the king that ring as a gift and he will find favor in me once again."

"Stop!" Odyna said as it pulled on her. She was coated with dirt and mud now and her side was burning from being dragged. "I can walk, if you just give me a chance to stand."

The water goblin stopped and let her gather to her feet. The human was quite a sight before his eyes. It had been some time since he had interacted with one. But when he saw the ring in the water, attached to her hand, he could not help himself. The ring looked like the eyes of the king and he knew he must have it. Mugnut, the water goblin, had not attended the winter solstice in centuries. He had been banished to a stream where he had created a home that looked similar to a beaver's damn. There he lived quietly by himself away from others in the faerie realm. But now would be a time of reckoning with the king. If the king was pleased with the gift, he just might change him back to a normal goblin and stop his banishment. For centuries, Mugnut had to live in the wetness of the fountain and stream. He would be happy to leave it once and for all, if the king was generous.

He looked upon the human in tow. It smelled of fresh air and flowers, which slightly sickened him, but after several years, she too would take on scummy water smell and then he could tolerate her presence, for he did not wish to lose this treasure either. He stood there and thought about her. She would be able to keep his modest home and do endless chores, she would be able to fetch food from the goblin market and weave him new clothing out of water reeds. Maybe, just maybe, he might even let her sing to him. But if he wanted to keep her as a prize, then she would need to stay put, as a secret.

Mugnut, pushed her back and she fell down before him.

"What was that for?" She yelled up at him.

"Give me the ring, you cannot come with me." He snarled down to her, shoving out his slimy hand for the ring. "You would not be welcome there human. Besides, you stink."

"I stink?!" She scrambled to her feet and placed protesting hands upon her hips, her voice rising up with shock and awe. "I stink!"

The water goblin began to grumble again and then snarled. "Yes, you stink of flowers, I can barely stand you. Now give me the ring!"

Odyna's shocked face slackened as she listened to the goblin complain. She stunk of flowers, he was saying and here she was coated in dirt and mud, her head reeling and her senses engrossed with nothing but the stench of rotting fish and decaying leaves. "Ugh!" She stomped her foot and growled out. They both stood staring at each other in a standoff. Seconds seemed like minutes. Neither willing to back down.

The goblin gave a restless sigh and lurched for her arm again. She swiftly pulled it away, backing away from him. "Don't touch me!" She hissed at him. The goblin's eyes narrowed and he bared yellowed, sharp teeth at her. She instantly softened her voice and tried to be sweet with a smile. "We…we can present the ring together to your king!"

The goblin glared at her, scrunching up his nose in dissatisfaction. "Hmm!"

"Come on, then!" the goblin said as he extended a hand out, glaring steadily at her to proceed before him. She strode passed and began to walk, even though she did not know the way. The goblin poked in her back as they stepped out and away from the mossy glen that held his beaver damn home he had created next to the creek. She stopped and looked about her surroundings. They were in a forest with a wide creek that was about twenty feet in its width. Dark forest trees loomed up and surrounded them. The light was beginning to fade from the sky and a creeping fog was hovered at the forest base. The sight was frightening, especially since she did not know where the goblin would lead her.

The goblin grabbed at her wrist again. She flinched at the feel of his slimy touch on her skin. The wind picked up and blew bitterly cold through her wet dress and she could see tiny specks of white being swept around casually on the air. She shuddered at the briskness of the wind. It chilled her to the bone and her teeth began to chatter. It was a wintery wind and she was in a sopping wet summer dress. The goblin pulled at her and drew her down to meet his face.

"There is no time to walk, we will use magic!"

He grabbed both of her hands. Closing his eyes, he spoke words that she did not understand. Small specks of light began to crackle about them. In the blink of an eye, they were suddenly standing on a rocky dirt path at the edge of the wood. Looming before them about a mile away was an enormous palace dotted with many turrets. The castle was alight with movement and sound. Chords could be heard rising above with the soft winter breeze of the evening, floating its way to where they stood at the end of a long procession of creatures, all with the intent of entering the castle for the festivities.

The line loomed before them nearly a mile in length to the castle. It was crowded with all types and manner of faerie characters, but mostly Goblins. Some were tall and others were small. They had big heads and small heads. Some were the color of the earth and others had the coloring of a pasty blue. Still others were ochre yellow and had long tails and faces like cats. Others merely had eyes like cats placed in the brightest of green faces with deep features and long pointy ears. Faces in the crowd were both young and old. They hobbled and bobbled, jumped and limped. They pushed and shoved and cackled with laughter. Some danced while they waited in line and others nibbled at fruit and other foods. Some drank spirits out of bulbous glass containers and sang songs, clearly drunk before even entering the festivities. Others were dressed in finery with silks and velvets, while opposites looked to be dressed in dirty rags. Some wore hats and masks fashioned out of leaves and others worn crowns of flowers.

Interspersed about the line were other woodland creatures, as well. Odyna could see the large expansive rack of a moose. The creamy smooth horns branched out above the crowd and were twice the length of her figure. There were animals large and small, from door mice and deer to chipmunks, bears, cougars and foxes. They all crept along the road to the entrance of the castle, and every creature in the long procession line, no matter its station or type, carried some type of gift to present to the king.


	8. Chapter 8

The Painted Door

Chapter Eight

Erlkin, King of the Goblins, Elf king, King of the Wood…and any other title that he was given over time didn't simply rule the woodland faerie realm, he was _joined _to it. It was a deep connection with nature that was sewn together by a powerful gossamer thread. Nature was strengthened by him and he was likewise strengthened by it, especially at points in the season like the Winter Solstice. It was a time to celebrate and relish all that he did to maintain the flow of nature in his kingdom. It was a celebration of birth and death and the connection that each creature had to the earth. It was a time of reckoning and one to relish.

It was equivalent to the most intimate of embraces and he could feel the ripples of life and death from the smallest of acts, like touching his finger to a leaf, feeling the rain upon his brow or breathing the smell of the wild foliage. These connections to the natural world in which they lived influenced the awareness of all his subjects and the elements they were composed of, increasing his energy and creativity, enabling him to create bubbling streams, crimson sunsets, nourishing thunder showers and whipping winds. Only through the honor of nature and all the seasons was he able to rule effectively. He was the master of all seasons, and his realm had been in a season of winter for far too many long. It would be a release to finally embrace the warmth of the sun, and melt his frozen heart through celebration of the Winter Solstice and the completion of his labyrinth, for it was no coincidence that he finished only days before.

Even from across the expanse of the throne room, he could still feel the heat from the giant hearths. The fire contained an ancient comfort that warmed his nearly melted core. Fire had a destructive, consuming power that reminded him of the hunt. But in its consummation, it also fostered seeds of renewal and growth, for even some forests trees needed fire to unleash their seeds; much like the death and rise of a great phoenix. For his kingdom, the last several hundred years had been a testament to growth.

He watched as the procession of subjects began entering for the celebration, all offering gifts of gratitude for the Winter Solstice and their king. Most of the gifts were the bounty of the forests and meadows, typically fantastic amounts of fruits, seeds, and natural elements that were released back to his subjects to eat and make merry with during the week-long event. The goblins came with an abundance of these items, where the rare guests typically brought more elaborate gifts that the king did keep for himself. It was known that Elfish kin from the other kingdoms would sometimes feel inclined to attend the Goblin Ball, as they teasingly titled it. But it was still very early in the morning and only the first day of celebration and he was not expecting them till much later. And for one loyal subject, every year, the king would accept one gift above the rest as the gift of reckoning, pardoning that subject for past transgressions.

Ever a rock of controlled chaos, the head steward, Beezum, was there to maintain order and introduce each guest, all the while, directing the placement of the presents and maintaining the staff. The little powder-blue goblin, with the scrunched up face, small spectacles and gray hairs had been up since before dawn as the flood of guests had begun arriving before the sun's first rays touched the horizon. They all stood humble and groveling before their king, most giving deep bows and curtsies before blending into the growing crowd. The crowds grew larger and larger over the course of the day and spilled out into the other vast halls and open areas of the palace.

All of the great halls, including the throne room had been decorated with large fragrant trees of the wood, filling the spaces of the castles with smells of the season. Some of the trees were twenty or so feet in height, almost touching the ceiling, alternating in species. Some were evergreen, pine, spruce and still others, including the noble fir. They were adorned with branches of berried juniper, magnolia leaves with blossoms, holly, boxwood, and ilex berries. Others trees were adorned with pomanders made of oranges and cloves. The cloves had been arranged in different patterns and set upon the trees with cinnamon sticks, berries, seeds and nuts of the forest. Long tapered honeycomb candles sat upon the outer most tips of the branches, flickering and casting shadows, scattering light about the rooms. They would be frequently replaced over the course of the celebration.

Tables had been arranged to the side of the throne room in between several trees where the gifts were beginning to pile high and spill out upon the floor. Gifts rose in towering columns, stacked upon each other to the point of tipping. Gifts crowded the space underneath the tables till there was only space to place them at the ends of the table and then Beezum began directing them to be placed under the large trees separating the tables. The variety of items was endless. There were the herbs of the winter solstice, like rosemary, bay leaves, thyme, basil and lavender. There were berries of all sorts, like blackberries, raspberries, elderberries, salmon berries, cranberries, currants, and two dozen others. There were nuts and seeds of every sort. Walnuts, pecans, sunflower seeds, almonds, hazelnuts, beechnuts, acorns, pumpkin seeds, chestnuts and others. The tables were laden with harvest fruits like apples, cherries, pears, peaches, figs, pomegranates, grapes and pots filled with dripping, sticking amber-colored honey. Still others brought mead and wine for a true Bacchic feast that would only enhance the frenzy of singing and dancing that had already begun. And there were the elements and minerals of the land, like fresh water pearls, quartz, emeralds, garnets, and moonstones.

As the day progressed into evening and the gifts began to press upon the space of the throne room causing Beezum's staff to begin inviting the guests to partake and consume the gifts. It was not until nearly eleven of the first evening of celebration that the line finally dwindled to the last few guests arriving.

At the end of the line was Mugnut, with a tired and mud-covered Odyna in tow. They had waited nearly seven hours in the procession to gain audience with the king. Mugnut could hardly contain his excitement over being in attendance to the event and belief that his was the best gift of the Winter Solstice. His gift, on the other hand, was truly exhausted. Her clothing was long since dry and pieces of mud would flake of as she was dragged further and further up the line with Mugnut, closer and closer to the entrance of the throne room.

On more than one occasion in the long process to get to see the head steward and the king, Odyna had asked the slimy water goblin creature if she could sit down, as her legs were wracked with pain from standing so long, and he obliged, but kept very close with a wary eye upon her. But now that only one guest stood between Mugnut and the King's audience, he latched onto her wrist and hauled her up.

"Quickly, give me the ring." He hissed at her, jutting out his slimy hand before. "I wish to present it to the king myself."

Even though Odyna was exhausted and hungry, she still held onto a fire in her belly swiftly answering the creature with a stout and haughty, "No!" The goblin yanked her muddy wrist closer again and with slippery finger tried to pull the dirty ring off, but she struggled against him. He shoved at her and then grabbed at her skirts, bringing the ring down to the fabric and quickly wiped the grime and mud from the ring about her finger, so that the king would be able to see the vast treasure that Mugnut had acquired for him.

"Next!" He heard loudly from behind him. He lifted his green head and pulled once again on her arm as another finely dress Goblin ushered them through the large stone entrance and delivered them to none other than Beezum.

Beezum had his face buried in a large brown leather ledger, furiously scratching words with a quill. His responsibility to note every guest in attendance and include their gift, prior to the introduction. He did not lift his head as he stroked his hand, swinging to a new page in the book.

"Name and gift." He spoke.

"Mugnut, and I have brought the King a ring." He stated confidently, drawing Odyna closer and behind his back, then stepping up before Beezum.

"Mug…Mugnut!" Beezum had begun to quill into the ledger when he lifted his eyes to the creature before him. His spectacles were resting at the tip of his goblin nose and his cat like eyes narrowed in suspicion and a hint of venom.

"What are you doing here?" He spat out. "It has been centuries. If I am not mistaken, you were banished from the kingdom?" He pursed his blue lips in an annoyed manner and lifted a skeptical brow at the creature that stood before him. He gave Mugnut's person a sweeping look of disgust and dissatisfaction.

"It is the season of reckoning and I have brought the king a worthy gift. I have a right to try and redeem myself before him." With that, he yanked Odyna out from behind him and shoved her before Beezum, lifting up her captured left hand, shoving the ring under Beezum's spectacles. "I present this ring as a gift to the king."

Beezum's mouth dropped open in utter shock. His cat eyes grew wide as he took in the sight before him. It was not the ring that drew his attention, but the mess of dirt and mud that was attached to the ring that caused the book to tumble from his grasp to the floor, along with the quill. He stood there momentarily dumbstruck. His mouth was a gaping black hole as he began to realize what type of creature stood before him attached to the golden ring with the cat eye jewel. It's smell of summer rain and honeysuckles, alone, caused a panic to rise up in his little goblin chest.

"What… is… that?" He seethed through a whisper and pointed a long blue crooked finger at Odyna, knowing full well what it was.

Mugnut, lifted the ring up closer for Beezum to inspect, disregarding Beezum's pointing finger, and waving his slimy green hand.

"That is nothing, it is this ring that I give to the king."

"You dolt!" Beezum raged in a hushed whisper. "You imbecilic oaf!" He could not contain his rage, fury and fear at what was standing before him. He stomped his feet furiously and spun in a quick circle he was so engaged and at a loss for what to do.

"You stole a mortal human and dare to bring it into the realm without permission, and present it to the king as a gift, no less! Do you wish for death?"

Mugnut stood defiantly against the smaller goblin before him. A snarl crept across his mouth, his lip curling high to show his sharp yellowed teeth. "I was not able to get it off the finger of this mortal and it would not release the ring to me. Now, if you do not present me to the king, then I shall present myself before him." Though he was still half-bent and hunch-backed, he raised himself up to his full height. He was twice the size of Beezum and confronted him with a menacing stance and then proceeded to shove Beezum out of the way, dragging Odyna in his wake.

Mugnut and a trailing Odyna entered from the left hand corner of the room. Behind them were the two great hearths, the fires stoked hot and high, each containing several felled trees. Some guests had tossed their herb gifts into the fires, so that the smell of rosemary and lavender wafted up and coated the air. Mugnut hobbled along the stone floor to the long black rug and then proceeded in only a quarter of the depth of the throne room, as was permitted upon introduction. The sides of the room were flanked with previously introduced guests of goblins, woodland creatures and other faerie folk as they mixed with the gift tables and the trees. Some watched as the last guest was presented but the vast majority of the crowd mingled amongst themselves, eating and drinking and patiently awaiting for the king to officially start the solstice.


	9. Chapter 9

The Painted Door

Chapter Nine

Mugnut bowed low, sweeping his slimy green arm before him, careful to keep Odyna as hidden as possible behind his back.

"Great Woodland King…" Mugnut began to say with a loud raised voice, when Beezum frantically scurried passed lifting a hand to stop while crossing the full length of the throne room till he was standing before the dais where the king was seated.

Beezum bowed low before coming even closer to the throne and whispered to the king.

"It is Mugnut, the banished one." He emitted with a growl.

"Ah!" Erlkin said. He was seated in the great black onyx-carved throne, its twisting patterns and carvings receding into the background against his regal form. He was no longer in his typical black and forest green leather, but had donned on a luminous silvery-green jacket with long billowy sleeves and a long train. It was so pale that it almost looked white in color and had a powdery softness to it. An oak leave pattern was woven into it with silver threads where acorn shapes gathered at the ends of the sleeves. It clasped together at the hollow of his neck and opened up right at his waist, flowing downward into three moveable panels, two in the front and the long wide back. Though no one could see it as he sat, the back held an embroidered circle symbol of a labyrinth at the center of a tree, branches splayed out up the back and over his shoulders. The rigid collar to the jacket rose up high above his neck and head in the back, creating a high contrast to his raven-colored hair that was drawn to the front by his face and cascaded straight down mid chest. Upon his head rested a crown that was ombre in nature for it was spun icicles that turned to silver sticks as they descended further down. Woven among the sticks was silvery Spanish moss and glittering moonstones.

Though his stature had been regal and semi-rigid, he was still leaning back into the throne, with his leg casually crossed over the other, exposing his matching silver-green trousers and leather boots. His arms rested nonchalantly upon the carved armrests as he stared out toward the water goblin. He raised his dark eyebrows ever so slightly as his face and nose tilted upward to stare down upon his subject. With a flick of his fingers upon his left hand and a look of disinterest he merely replied, "Proceed."

Beezum turned from his post and stepped downward off the dais and motioned for Mugnut to come closer. Once Mugnut had gotten about halfway up the throne room, Beezum motioned for him to stop. Beezum bowed low and swung his arm toward the king in a motion indicating that Mugnut would now be received by him. Again, Mugnut cocked his head to the side, the algae and pond grasses swaying at the movement and he spoke.

"King of the Wood, it is I, Mugnut. I present to you a ring for the celebration of the Winter Solstice."

The king majestically inclined his head in acknowledgement of Mugnut and the start of Beezum's name had just begun to escape his mouth when he closed his eyes and gave a twist to his jaw, pursing his lips. Something was not right! There was a stirring in the air, an inappropriate ripple to the atmosphere that unsettled him. There also was movement behind Mugnut that sent out a whiff that floated down toward him. Despite the heavy scents of anise, fennel, pines, cedar, and rich smells of winter there was something on the air that did not fit. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes, his hunter instincts awakened. It was the smell of a summer breeze, of pollen and honeysuckles. Mugnut noted the change within the countenance of his king and hurriedly spoke up, dragging Odyna's body from around him like a ragdoll sending her spinning out on the floor, while twisting her arm and hand up to offer the ring. The human yelped out in a cry of pain.

Erlkin's green cat-like eyes widened as the human's body was cast down before him. It was completely coated in mud and dirt. The hair was tousled and full of rats, half-captured up in a comb and half-falling about its shoulders. The face was smeared with green algae and brown mud and it raised pale blue eyes in his direction. He slowly rose from the onyx chair like a predator, his moves stealthy and precise. His face had a sinister look of caged rage mixed with shocked awe. His lips separated, but no sound rose from them. He drew himself up to his full seven feet and took a step in the direction of Mugnut and the human. The merriment and jubilee that had filled the large throne room began to die out. Conversations changed into hushed whispers and goblins and creatures alike craned their necks to see that the king had finally rose from his throne. As tradition, they awaited his blessing upon the celebration, but the king stood there, not saying anything, his attention drawn to the creature in the center of the hall with nothing but a look of both reproach and shock.

His lip twitched as he regained his regal composure, sweeping down in a low bow with his head slightly turned, turning out extended hands, he finally spoke with a cold stare and majestical aloofness.

"I thank you and graciously accept your gift."

A cheer rose up among some of the guests within the room and the King, with hands still extended, nodded his head. But the look of dagger-sharp irritation did not leave his face. He did not return to his throne, nor did he engage in a blessing for the Winter Solstice, but motioned his hands to guards. Two tall and grotesque looking goblins in tarnished, battle-worn armor stepped forward and surrounded Mugnut, but instead of grabbing him, they reached down and grabbed ahold of each of Odyna's arms and lifted her from the ground. She stumbled in their holds as they escorted her forward to be addressed by the king.

"Remove the ring and give it to me." His deep voice said as he stood there with hands clasped gently in front of him.

She was nervous and panicked and scared and entranced and frightened all at the same time. She paused for a heartbeat and took a ragged breath, for his beauty was far greater than anything she had ever beheld before. She could tell by his posture that he expected, no challenged, her to resist and snap back a response, but instead, Odyna gave a graceful curtsy, removing the ring and holding it before him. The move took the King off guard, but the moment quickly passed as he lifted his regal head, swinging out his robed-jacket and turned his back upon her, but still managed to peek over his shoulder as he climbed the dais again to his throne, giving a penetrating stare out of the corner of his bright green eyes, then he sat once more.

The king motioned a hand and Beezum stepped out to the girl and took the ring from her open palm and then walked it forward to the king. Erlkin let Beezum place the ring in his hand and then looked down upon it. He took it between his fingertips, rotating it to take in all of its intricacies. The ring definitely was his, for there was no other realm that contained the green and gold cat's eye stone and the oak leaves and acorns were signature marks of the woodland realm but he had not seen such workmanship for at least a thousand years. He thought on it for several seconds, studying it. Then his eyes went wide just slightly for it was a ring that he had given to the Lark, many, many, years ago and which Jackson had stolen by stealing her.

"Where did you get this ring?" He finally questioned.

Her voice was arrogant in its response, but still musical in tone. "It was a gift!"

The king arched a silent brow as that was not an adequate response to the question.

She did not humble herself before the king, even with the two fierce goblins at either side with claws on the hilts of poised swords, but placed fatigued hands on her hips.

"It was a gift from my father for my wedding."

Time stopped. Erlkin looked at her and really saw her for the first time. There was a slowness that surrounded him as sounds dropped into the background and faded memories threatened to surface in the tangible form before him, making the unreal now surreal. Lost dreams transformed into the physical realm in the young woman that stood before him. The Lark? It could not be. His countenance did not change, but at the same time, many different emotions flashed through his person – anger, grief, shock, fascination and even a bit of joy.

The king then looked down at the human girl and with a wave of contempt and disgust spoke to Beezum. "Address this human and make her presentable to me. We do not treat our guests in such a manner as this."

The head she had held high with a bit of snobbery and pride dipped in shame, for she had behaved haughtily. In the madness of her environment, she had slipped on her manners and upbringing. She chastised herself for letting her character slide by not maintaining her genteel and modest nature, even before a Goblin King. Though his tone sounded harsh and full of distain, she guessed it was because she had been treated so indecently by the water goblin. She gave a soft sigh of relief and lowered her head as she curtsied in the muddied attire.

Beezum left the side of the dais and shuffled over to the girl as the guards stepped back. The small blue goblin gave a bow and a wave of his hand, motioning for her to follow him. He guided her down the center of the great hall back toward the fireplaces, turning to the right and past the last table of gifts. Some guests continued in their conversations and fun, while others craned their necks to see what guest the king spoke of. The noise of the hall had been at a hush as the king had addressed the human and Mugnut, but conversations and antics began to rise in the great hall as the guests grew impatient for the celebrating to start. The king noted the restlessness of the crowds, eager for him to officially begin the festivities, but the king was not done with Mugnut for he had broken a sacred rule of the realm and would need to be made an example of, even on a joyous occasion such as the Winter Solstice. Once again he rose from his throne and waved for the crowds to be silent for him to speak.

Lifting his voice he spoke out above his subjects. "Behold, my subject Mugnut, the water goblin, who has claimed the prize of the Gift of Reckoning, for he has delivered unto his king, the most favored gift of the Winter Solstice this night." He lifted the ring high in the air so that all could see the return of his ring. Then he extended out his hand toward Mugnut. The crowds of goblins and creatures roared with applause and praise for the water goblin in his triumph. Some animals could be heard expressing sighs of sorrow as for dashed hopes of claiming the prize for the Gift of Reckoning for themselves.

Erlkin ventured down and across the length of the room that separated him from the lowly goblin, his robe billowing out behind him as his pace was brisk. The slight smile of praise and pleasure on his lips only shielded the fury and anger that he felt toward the goblin at this moment. Mugnut stood in the center of the great throne room turning and seeing the crowds of goblins and creatures cheering him on, his chest beginning to puff with pride. _Finally!_ he had triumphed over the banishment that had been imposed upon him centuries ago. He turned, soaking in all the attention and cheering, raising his arm as if he were holding his own prize. The king continued to smile and hissed through gritted teeth, "You dared to bring a human into my domain without permission."

Panic flooded into Mugnut's eyes and his face lost its spark of pride. His arms grew slack and he crept them back down to his sides. He was at least half the size of the looming King that began to pace around him like a hungry animal, his arms clasped behind his back.

Mugnut whispered in a fearful tone," I did not mean too, majesty. It would not give me the ring and, alas, these cursed fingers could not pry it from its finger."

"And that is my problem how?" The king stopped, his face sliced through the space and was instantly before Mugnut, his hands remained clasped behind his back, ever the royal.

"I just wanted to please your majesty and be forgiven." The goblin groveled in a low mumble.

Ignoring the goblin, the king steepled his hands together before his lips as if coming up with a brilliant idea. Raising his voice, he spoke to the crowds of onlookers. "A prize, if I am not mistaken. It is the Gift of Reckoning. What will it be, Mugnut?"

Mugnut looked downward in thought, for he knew that the king was displeased by him bringing the human to the faerie realm. He knew that he had broken faerie rule. Mugnut merely asked for redemption of past transgressions, which was the intent all along. He looked up into the sinister and wide forest green eyes. In a low voice, he said to his king. "I ask that you cease my banishment and change me back."

The king clapped his hands together and smiled widely at Mugnut and then turned around in a full circle to all of his subjects so that they might hear him. "My loyal subject has asked for forgiveness of his previous transgressions, whose punishment was banishment. And I SHALL be merciful!"

Cheers and loud clapping roared up from the crowds. And in a fluid movement, the Goblin King was before Mugnut and said in a loud voice, "I take away your magic. I take away your name! No longer Mugnut you shall be but remain nameless! " The long dagger flashed with a brilliance and fell. There was no time for Mugnut to struggle for the king's movement was sudden and effortless as he swiftly thrust it deep into the goblin's heart and turned it, causing the goblin unnecessary pain. Creatures and goblin alike quieted down as they watched the king's mercy displayed before them. For some, it was not a display of horror, for their wish was to be human and leave the faerie realm.

The King's eyes broke contact with his victim as the light of magic faded from his eyes. The body slacked and the king let it fall to the floor with a thud. As whispers and gasps rose from the surrounding crowds, the small sprawled body began to transform into the body of a human man. The humped back began to straighten and the shoulders became broad. The algae and grass that lived upon his head withered to sprout disheveled autumn-colored tresses with slight curls. The king kicked the body of his victim with the sea-foam green leather boot and it turned on its back. The face was indeed beautiful, but remained expressionless in its unconscious state. Soon enough, it would awake to confront life in its new freedom.

"Freedom I have bestowed upon you, and you may have it once you have conquered my labyrinth."

The king motioned his hand and the two closest goblin guards went over to the body. It was fled away from the jubilee to the Goblin King's dungeon, for the man had become nameless and nothing but an empty sound in his realm; an afterthought in light of the night's celebration. The king turned his back as he was drug away, forgotten in his mind.

"Bring me the black violin," Erlkin said in a booming voice.

A small goblin came swiftly to him, carrying an ebony violin on a silver tray and lifted it up to the King.

"May the merriment begin!" The Goblin King announced. He picked up the black violin and placed it to his chin and the room became quiet as death. With an explosive start, the music began. The pace was frantic, the tempo quick and high, laced with excitement and fight. The ballad was full of speed and haste with its repetitive rhythmic figures, capturing a forward movement. It was the movement of hooves as they sped through the forest, racing against time. The king's own presence only enhanced the horror associated with the frenzied tempo as he flashed his green eyes about the room. And then he fell into its lull; the pull and sway of the music. Just as suddenly as the tempo was fearful, it chased into a livelier melody, light and tempting as he introduced himself as a character, a sinister smile rising to his lips as he played. His voice in the song was soft and lovely, sweet and alluring; speaking of games and fun.

But the response to the lively beat was a higher pitched tone of fear and fright then coupled with lower and smoother pitches. It was the interaction of two distinct voices, like a child and father and apart from his own. He wove an interplay between all three voices creating an intense ballad. Erlkin closed his eyes as he once again shared his story with the crowds for the Winter Solstice. As his final voice in the song was presented, it lowered and took on a dark and furious roar, then the higher pitch, as if a child screaming. Erlkin ended the song with the voice of a narrator. It took on quieter tones by ending as soft as a whisper. As the song drew to a close, a hush maintained over the crowds enthralled by the tension and drama and then they roared to life, filling the great hall with a frenzy of praise. The king bowed before his subjects.

Other music began to fill the hall, the crowd responding with clapping and dancing. With the start of the official music, he lifted the enchantments from the woodland creatures. At only two times of the year, winter and summer solstice, did the king free the creatures from his magical enchantment; the spell he cast upon their bodies which they had lost through his silver dagger. They joyously reclaimed their true forms as humans to sing and dance the week away. Many were dressed in elaborate costumes and gowns, some true to the names the King had assigned them and others with garb intent to lure and deceive for the Goblin Masquerade, but all exuding an unparalleled beauty.


	10. Chapter 10

The Painted Door

Chapter Ten

Swept away. She could be swept away by the heat of the embracing water and the delicate frothy foam that floated on the surface of the bath like pearly sea foam that caressed and danced upon a sandy shore. The steam rose up around her as she eased back deeper into the large copper tub, resting her head back upon the lip of the tub, closing her eyes to the luxurious feeling.

Beezum had escorted her away from the throne room, taking her several levels upward to more personal spaces of the castle and to one of the many guest chambers. He took out his ring of keys and unlocked the wooden door to reveal a large room. With a snap of his little blue fingers, candelabras about the room ignited with small flames to reveal a bed chamber. The center housed a huge poster bed with a canopy. There were small tables and chairs, large fur rugs, a vanity with a table mirror and a fireplace that took up half the wall. In the corner of the room stood a tall wardrobe and a full length mirror.

"I will have servants bring the tub with hot water." Beezum said with a curt bow and exited the room, but before leaving, he snapped his fingers again. The fireplace roared to life. It did not seem but ten minutes before three female goblin attendants came to the room hauling a large copper tub and placed it before the fireplace. After setting it down, one of the servants went to the door and called out. A stream of other goblins arrived and began to dump out heated buckets of water into it. In all, it took at least fifteen goblins to fill the tub to the halfway point. One of the female goblins place a washing cloth next to the tub on a chair along with glass bottles, of which, Odyna could only assume they were perfumes or oils. They also left a bar of lye to scrub herself clean and a bunch of rosemary to place in the water.

The chance to de-grime herself of the sludge and much of that water goblin's thing it called a home and the residual slime from his touch was like a drink of water to a dying man in the desert. It was a simple pleasure, but one she welcomed whole-heartedly during these few minutes of solitude.

Solitude. The solitude and serenity gave her a chance to process the absurd and fantastical experiences of the past ten hours or so. There was no clock to know how much time had passed that she was kidnapped and trapped in this strange myriad of a wonderland nightmare. She inwardly groaned and sank under the water, letting the healing water slowly creep to cover her cheeks and temples, then spill over her eyelids, mouth and lastly cover her nose. She held her breath and opened her eyes under the water. Maybe, just maybe, when she rose from the water, she would wake from a dream. She longed to be home, comforted by damask covered walls and buried among the soft piles of bed clothing of her own poster bed at home; alone to all but herself and God.

It was possible that she had fallen into the fountain and hit her head and that this fantasy dreamscape; filled with strange goblins and faerie creatures could just be a dream. She closed her eyes in the water and counted as long as she could, hoping and waiting for the explosion from the water; the desperation of her lungs to begin screaming for air to drive her to the surface of the water. Hoping that when she _did _surface, that these experiences would melt away like light frost on a sunny winter day into the distant memory of a dream. Hoping that she would open her eyes to the concerned face of a certain young banker with soft red hair, freckles and a quick smile, assisting her drenched figure from a fountain; mocking her all the while.

Odyna's lungs began to seer and the fire was more intense than it should have been after having almost drown to death earlier in the day. She opened her eyes again and gave herself a countdown.

Five…

Four…

Three…

She did not make it to her last two numbers for she saw a looming green hand with bulbous knuckled fingers reach over the edge of the tub and enter the water, trekking downward toward her face. She shook her head and panicked. Little air bubbles escaped from her mouth, trickling upward and knocking into the hand and then continuing upward to explode that the surface. No! The word formed upon her lips. She wanted to remain hidden within the depth of the water, but her lungs burned like a raging fire within her breasts, as if a dragon had taken up residence, creating a cavern in her lungs with his raging spray of intense fire. She burst forth from the water, only to see that the goblin attendants had returned to help her dress.

They fitted her in a soft creamy colored dress that clung to her slim body, accentuating her curves. The design was open and translucent, revealing the sides of her body, hip bones and the length of her legs and there was no petticoat to wear underneath. The front had a central panel of gold in a tendril pattern that ended at the base of her bodice where it met with the round labyrinth symbol. The bodice was surrounded with individually fashioned oak leaves that were embroidered with gold thread and beads of gold and brown. They were sewn together to flow over and around her breasts, revealing her collarbone and neck and trek up and over to her back, dripping leaves and acorns at her shoulders. The back was open from a single clasp at the neckline where two oak leaves joined and then revealed skin down to the base of her back. The leaf pattern lined the edges of the fabric as it separated. The oak pattern started again at the base where it died down to a trickle of oak leaves as a cascade of gold fabric pinecones and acorns came down in a massive train about a foot from the back of the dress.

She spun in a circle before the long mirror and watched as the fabric billowed out, floating down like a misty cloud. It was translucent and gauzy but surprisingly smooth and flexible, silky to her touch. It was iridescent in the candle light, giving off a shimmer. She lifted it again, watching it splay out before her, then slowly ride downward to the floor settling by her slipper feet.

"The finest spider silk, my lady." One of the attending goblin servants whispered drawing close, "Come sit, your hair must be done before we put your robe on."

The three female goblins lead her to a vanity with another mirror where she sat and began to watch them towel her hair and comb it dry. Despite their long spindled fingers with knobby knuckles, they were surprisingly nimble and gentle. It was therapeutic having her hair stroked and brushed, especially after the misadventure of her last ten hours. It was relaxing enough that she almost fell asleep from the pleasure of their touch. They had sectioned off parts, sweeping it upward and sculpting it above her head, the pulling motion released the stress and tension she had endured just hours earlier.

She only opened her eyes because their fingers had stopped, and she wanted to respond in protest. But the reflection of the woman in the mirror erased any thought that she had as she did not recognize herself anymore. She only saw a strange type of woodland faerie creature, for the goblins had teased and sculpted her golden tresses up into two large sweeping shapes similar to the horns of a ram or mountain goat. They had used something to add coloring to the hair for the hair near her scalp was a darker brown than her typical golden tresses and the color faded to an almost white near the tips of the horns. Intertwined in the tresses were random twigs and oak leaves in a rich caramel brown. Some of the stems still had acorns still attached and they had placed wisps of Spanish moss in random places as well. She turned and looked at the horns from side to side, eerily entranced by such a change in her appearance and was, almost, secretly pleased.

One of the goblins came with two small clay pots and placed them on the vanity before her. The goblin dipped her finger in and then brought it up to her cheekbones. Odyna watched the reflection in the mirror as a glittering sheen suddenly appeared, accentuating her high cheekbones. The goblin then used a stick and sea sponge from the other pot to apply kohl to her eye lids and lips. She began to take on the image of some type of dark faerie princess and it slightly scared her, but intrigued her at the same time. But she also realized that she was safe in the security of this room and not out in the great hall with that slimy watery goblin or that pale and demanding king with the striking green eyes. Thoughts of having to confront those eyes again made her shiver with fear.

The goblin addressing her lips with the black kohl made a tsk noise at her movement and then saw the temporary look of apprehension on Odyna's face. Then tapped Odyna's hand lightly, as if to comfort her, "In honor of the darkest night!"

Odyna just swallowed and shook her head. She didn't want the goblin women to be finished with her anytime soon as she was reluctant to leave the protection of the room she was in. When the goblin was finished with her makeup, another goblin came forward with a tapered purple glass container with a cork in it. The goblin shoved it out toward her, waiting for Odyna to take the container.

"What is it?" Odyna questioned.

"It is the essence of honeysuckle to put on. The king requested that you wear it, but do not put it on till we are finished and leave, for it is strong and it stinks."

"Honeysuckle stinks!" Odyna let out a laugh, the first laugh since she had arrived in this strange place.

"To us, my lady, it is a very strong smell. Not horrible, just unpleasant."

Odyna nodded in agreement and placed the perfume upon the vanity. The three goblins then went over to the bed where a robe had been placed, Odyna's last adornment for the evening before being presented before the king. Odyna stood and followed them. She couldn't imagine covering up the beautiful dress she wore with another robe but she lifted her arms into the sleeves of the robe they provided anyway. It was the fabric that they called, spider silk, as well. It was more like a cape than a robe because the arms were long and flared out, but the robe did not cover the front of the dress, but was designed to billow out from behind and ride the air. It was designed to look like a moth, powdery and sheer, so that the oak leaves, acorns and pinecones could still be partially viewed, but the fabric was speckled with flecks of white and brown. It became a darker brown at the edging and it had darker bands and stripes of brown, just like a giant moth.

Once the goblins finished arranging the robe over her dress, they gave a nod and began to exit the room. The last one pointed to the purple container and then told her that Beezum would collect her to be presented to the king. Then they shut the door. Odyna could hear the click of a lock in the key hole, as well. She walked to the vanity and took the cork out of the top of the purple glass. She gingery brought it up to her nose and sniffed. It smelled sweet like honeysuckles. It reminded her of summer nights and lightening bugs and walking through a garden in the evening. Reminded that goblins were not fond of the scent, she made sure to put plenty on. She dabbed at her neck, wrists, the back of her knees and even her ankles for good measure. Just as she was replacing the cork, the door swung open to reveal the small blue goblin named Beezum.

Beezum scrunched his nose up and pushed on the spectacles at the edge of his nose, but he did not complain about the saturated smell of honeysuckle on the air. He could have been holding his breath for all she knew, since he was blue in color anyway. But Beezum bowed low and waved his arm in the direction she should proceed. He looked a bit haggard and his voice sounded tired when he spoke to her.

"The celebrations have commenced and the majority of the crowds are no longer occupying the throne room. They have begun the dancing and masquerade in the ballroom and I shall take you there. You will be able to find the king waiting for you there."

"But I have not been introduced to your king. Is that not breaking some kind of rule?" she questioned the little goblin.

Beezum shrugged. "The king makes his own rules, I just make sure that they are adhered to. He will make his own introduction to you, I suppose. He was not cruel to make the crowds continue to wait for the Winter Solstice to begin because of your unannounced visit."

Beezum turned a corner and led her through a passageway and down steps she had not been prior. The lower passageway opened up to a large garden and courtyard that surrounded the ballroom, its own building. She could see large and small crowds gathered around the gardens, fountains, and flowing in and out of the ballroom, only now it looked to be full of people and goblins. Many of them were dressed in elaborate finery and outrageous masks. Beezum stopped by one of the many open doorways and gave a motion for her to enter.

"You are just going to leave me here like this?" She questioned, unsure what to do next or where to go.

"Yes," the goblin gave with a snort. "He will find you, trust me. You cannot miss that stink! Ugh!" And with that, he spun on his heal and ventured off. He had had a long day and it was nearly midnight and he would need to be up again in several hours. As much as Beezum enjoyed Winter Solstice, it was an exhausting task as the head steward.


	11. Chapter 11

The Painted Door

Chapter Eleven

The portraits swayed about the room like awakened gods for they did not look human from behind the massive headdresses and intricate face masks. The faces would swell and dwindle with the movement and respiration of the space. Crowds would blossom like spring flowers and disperse like flocks of birds, often quickly. Other people were swirling closer and further away with the dancing. Solitary individuals loomed afar watching, while a healthy few mingled near with an intent on discovery.

The sight was entrancing in a phantasmagorical way, the mix between dreamscape and reality. It was an odd landscape of masquerading fantasy creatures that were human, but not; all sensual, beautiful, repulsing and fabulous at the same instant. But the goblins had not disappeared, for there were crowds of them mingled with the human forms. Some were dressed like peasants, with little short-waist jackets, woolen caps and homemade trousers, and dresses but others painted an entirely different scene. There were some that wore beautiful ball gowns of rich silks and taffetas, lined with ermine and furs and adorned with jewels. They held fans and were even lovely with their high hair and powdered wigs of goblin proportions. Adorned with crowns and jewels and flowing petticoats, Odyna could almost call some of them pretty, but- of course- their faces were not so pretty once you approached them. For the faces contained clumsy pointed noses, long ears, and large black eyes. They were goblin faces of various shades of blue, green, yellow and cyan, but still goblin faces.

A breath of panic escaped her lips as she stood there by herself before the multitudes of figures. There was a roiling of her stomach, a sudden weakness at her joints and limbs that she needed to conquer. Mixed with the nervous sensation and fear, was a growing need for sustenance, for she could smell the spices and scents on the air that reminded her of sumptuous food. Just as she was going to let her stomach become her guide, she heard a low deep voice behind her.

"What shall I do with you?" It queried, almost in a rhetorical way. Erlkin's voice held deceitful charm matched with a hint of malice; the question dripped with sarcasm.

She was fearful to turn around and face him. It did not seem nearly as frightening to face the beautiful king while she was coated in dirt and grime, but now that she was adorned in finery that he had provided, she was petrified of confronting him, and not because she felt that she owed him gratitude, but because…

Because…

She did not want to admit that she was captivated by him. Quickly, she recalled all of her schooling on etiquette and protocol and turned to face the king that stood behind her; addressing her. She cast her eyes downward and dipped into a curtsy. As she lifted her eyes, she saw that he merely gave her a look and then turned and strode away. She should not have been perturbed by his manner, he was a king after all, but she did feel irked that he did not speak more. Maybe for some reason she had thought he would reveal what she was doing there. Why she was surrounded by strange goblins and faerie creatures? How to get back home, or even…why she should stay? She shook that thought away instantly, recalling Charles' chestnut-colored eyes, auburn hair and the dappling of freckles that crossed the bridge of his nose. She needed to get back home and quickly.

She wanted to chase after his wake, but a warning in her gut was loudly protesting; telling her to count blessings instead. He continued to walk away, but every so often he would turn to address other guests, yet still make eye contact with her, as if beckoning her to follow him. She was scared, but titillated, like a moth to a flame.

She was not to succeed in following him, even if she wanted, for a gentleman came forward, bowing low before her and extending a hand to dance. He looked like a gentleman from the bottom of the fawn mask he was wearing and seemed to have hands and legs, but she was startled when he gently clasped her hand. She was whisked off in the partner's embrace, spun away as she tried to crane her neck to see the direction that the king had departed to, but he had been consumed by the jovial multitudes. Parties separated into two lines, one of females and the other of males, readying themselves for a waltz. The music floated about her and she surveyed the crowd, the bars of the ballad impressed upon her senses. The music was sweet and intoxicating, full of sensuality and illusion. It was hard not to get swept up by the festivities of the room that surrounded her, like a spell. The perfumed air alone imposed upon her, making her giddy and unassuming. She was unprepared when she changed partners in the dance and came face to face with the king again. He raised his hand before her and she likewise raised hers, but she was too afraid to place her hand fully against his. They began a walking turn in one direction, paused and changed hands and then did the same in an opposite direction.

She pursed her lips and then her pale mouth opened to speak. Her rose-bud lips moved and an expression of surprise swept across, changing her sentiment as he touched her hand and then placed his upon her waist to guide her in a dance away from the others in the reel and alone with only himself. Time wound down as there was a slowness that surrounded them as sounds and figures in the room faded to the background, their interaction seeming like the only movement of the entire ball room. Her body responded with fire to his touch. Ungovernable energy seemed to burst forth from where his fingers rested. She reasoned in vain as her heart shuddered in her chest; choked and then slammed uncontrollably with no remorse to her mind as she frantically instructed it to calm. The two isolated strangers looked at each other and, just for a moment, shared something important.

There in the middle of the festive elegance of the evening, her dress sparkled in the light but seemed dull compared to her. She was a quiet splendor. To him, she was like stumbling upon a secret alcove, fragrant of dew drops, flowers and the scent of a summer day. She was like a hidden room flourishing with little boxes of treasures, beckoning him to open all of them. He could not keep his eyes from hers, but let them probed over her person. She was the only figure in the room, save himself, that did not have a mask, which was no coincidence. He took in her face and figure for she was the spitting image of the Lark, only with slight differences. Her height was taller by several inches. Regardless of her current costume and ram horns that flowed from her head, it still looked as if the Lark was dancing before him and he did not wish to break the spell with questions that would only lead to the truth. Yet as the same time, he wanted to take this new figure to the labyrinth and defy truth and logic; to prove himself wrong; to test and see if the statue of the Lark remained or if the magic of the Winter Solstice had brought her back.

The beautiful woman before him captivated and repelled him, exquisite and beautiful to the sight but a known alien to his realm. A creature that could not be here, whether the Lark or not, she did not belong there.

She licked upon dry lips. Her face looked as if it had many questions to ask of him.

Instead of letting her break the spell, he spoke before she could say anything. "Maybe you should just appreciate where you are in this moment instead of focusing on how far you have to go, for time is often short."

Her first impulse was to argue in protest, but this was a fruitless line of thought for he ended their dance as abruptly as he had chastened her away from the other dancers. He bowed low with a serene smile upon his face. Turning, there was already another suitor lying in wait and he passed her hand over to him. His eyes were so intensely green, she felt as if she could not pry away from them but wished to spend hours exploring their depth. Buried memories, like prehistoric ice began to melt and flood in every which way, as she regarded this departing king she had never met before. His eyes were familiar, lit with mischief now, but in a distant dream of her memories of them flashed with rage.

"I think that I dreamed you into existence," she whispered too low for him to hear. She let this new partner pull her back into the whirl of dancers, abandoning her current questions and allowing herself to just embrace the excitement of the moment. Suitor upon suitor wished to dance with her and she obliged most, but after what seemed like an hour of full dancing, she raised her hands in protest. She did not know what time it was, but she was tired and immensely hungry, a buzzy feeling of lightheadedness washed over her.

As she wandered about the hall, she noticed that there were lavish tables tucked here and there heavily adorned with hors d'oeuvres on three-tiered silver trays that were both savory and sweet, exotic and grotesque. Glasses of crystal held wine and mead. Her stomach growled with need as she headed for the closest table, all the while, she kept overhearing snippets of intriguing conversations that included herself and a lark. She tried to not listen or care that they were conversing about her and only focused her attention on her rising need to eat something before passing out.

The crowds seemed to effortlessly part as she drew closer to the table and finally stopped before it. She glanced down and looked upon the feast of small foods before her, beautifully crafted and delicate in nature. Her mouth watered and her stomach leapt at the thought. She scanned the table and decided upon a slice of toasted bread with a glazed fig topped with, what looked like, mascarpone cheese and a thin slice of prosciutto. She lifted it up and had it poised to enter her mouth when she heard a voice behind suddenly in her ear.

_'We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits'_

_ 'Who knows upon what sort they feed, their hungry thirsty roots?'_

Her eyes grew wide at the words spoken in her ear. She did not eat of the trinket in her hand but turned around instead to see the Goblin King looming behind her. She looked down at the food resting gingerly in her hand, wondering if it was contaminated with some type of Goblin poison. Her heart fell a bit in her chest and her stomach ached in protest at the deprivation of something so delectable.

"Christina Rossetti," she instantly recalled the poem, looking up into the face of the king.

The king merely nodded his head as he chortled with glee, inordinately pleased by her recognition of the poem. His presence made her step back just slightly, causing her to bump into the table, unsettling its contents and sloshing the wine from the glasses. Her nervousness only thrilled the king, his face alight with mischief.

"Ah, Jenny! Rather unfortunate, but I do think I recall her. Do you not my friends?" He questioned to some of the guests surrounding them, including a large group of goblins standing in close proximity. "Recall that sweet young lady that came to market day those many years ago? Such a pity. Alas, what will be, shall be!

Odyna's mind desperately thought on the snippet of the poem that the king had recited. It was about the Goblin market that Christina Rossetti had published not twenty years earlier, where she came from.

"How is it that you know…" she began to question the king.

He leaned down toward Odyna's face and her heart stepped up a beat, from his beauty and the look that instilled a degree of fear as he sighed, "Ah goblin food! She partook of it and fell into a slow physical deterioration and depression. If I recall correctly she began to wither away as it nearly took her to the verge of death. All from the taste of mere fruit."

"Ugh!" Odyna exclaimed as she cast the food from her and back onto the table, looking around at others that were consuming from the table as well. She was panicked by the idea that one bite might kill her. She looked about her at the goblins, as she tried to regain her composure and act genteel. But their countenances held looks of contempt and their attitudes turned malicious as they heard her decline the offer of their food. Some goblins, with fruits and nuts in hand, twitchingly turned them in their palms, rocking them back and forth, as if to pummel her with the fruit. But one look from the king, defused their aggression.

He laughed impishly at his witticism and her embarrassment. Forgetting momentarily that he was a king, she shot him a look of accusation. "Surely you intend for me to starve to death here."

"Perhaps, little lark," he laughed again, for she was so easy to toy with.

"Why do you call me little lark? I do have a name you know._ IF_ you even care to know it."

"How naïve you are! So quick to offer up such power to me of no accord." He whispered as he lightly stroked the length of her cheek and face. "Hush and come, for you shall eat with me. Though goblin food is delicious, I assure you, I cannot have you wither away just yet."

As only a king would, he took her arm and hand and placed it top his own in a very formal manner and escorted her down the length of the immense ball room. She tried to remain focused on her walk with the king, but was tempted by the tantalizing sounds of the on lookers as she heard fragments of music, snatches of laughter, the rustle of silk skirts, and whispers of illicit conversations that were mainly about herself. She glanced about and caught the eye of a particular woman that was intensely staring at her, though Odyna could not understand why, for she could easily have been the most beautiful woman in the room and her outfit demanded attention.

Her dress was a bright and vibrant red that reminded her of blood. Just below the neckline and along the bodice were gold and black shapes that were layered to look like feathers or scales. The dress had sleeves, though they did not attach to the actual dress but were effortlessly held in place at the middle of her upper arm and billowed out in huge cascading puffs. Her skin was as white as fresh untampered snow, her eyes a dark brown and lips as crimson as her gown. The most intriguing focal point was that she wore a large headdress that was shaped like the horns on an enormous bull or oxen that swung out wide from her head on either side. The horns were black and wrapped with a red and gold beaded trim all the way out to the tips. Sprouting from the bottom of the horns were black crystal drops and long black and red tassels that were cut in a semi-circle with the longest parts dripping down to below her bodice, swaying with every movement of her head. Black crystal droplets lined her face at the top of her forehead and gold chains drooped down behind one ear and then reconnected behind the other ear, creating a necklace of sorts.

Though she was staring at Odyna, she was conversing with another guest that Odyna could only assume was a man for he was wearing a layered full body amour in black with gold trimming. It could have been a blend between an ancient Spartan warrior and a samurai. The shoulders were sculpted outward and articulated in layers but they also sculpted inward and up to frame the face. He wore a mask that had a nose piece, shielding his entire face, only reserving space for the eyes and mouth. Atop the helmet was a Mohawk thick with black and gold plumage. They both looked fierce and menacing from across the room.

The warm breath of the king sounded in her ear, causing her to shiver at his intimacy. "She is jealous of you little lark, for that is the nightingale."

Odyna turned to stare at her once again as the king led her up steps to another dais where another throne sat for him to watch from. The king motioned to an attending goblin servant and a chair was fetched for her to sit next to his own. There was a large rounded table next to his throne that was adorned with food and drink. He invited her to take some as she sat.

"Will it kill me?" She questioned the king, without thinking.

"Do I look dead to you?" He said with a raise of his dark eyebrows, his voice did not hint of humor?

"N…no…"she hesitated, but yet she still did not eat take the food that rested before her. "It's just that…." Her voice faded off and she looked away and back over the crowds of dancers, and back over to the one that he called _Nightingale_. She had ceased looking at Odyna, mingling once again with the crowds and other visitors.

"Surely you are famished, I insist that you eat." He said as he sat upon his throne and took a glass of dark ruby red wine. He took a sip and swirled it lightly in his mouth, savoring the flavor, and shutting his eyes, taking in the taste of pepper, plums and cherries on the nose. It had a smooth finish, as it should, since it was from the ancient grapes. How he would love to have her drink of the wine, but it should not be; he could not permit it. He motioned to the servant that was standing at ready that instantly rushed to his side and whispered. "Bring a more fitting wine that we may share."

"It was not an invitation", the king sighed with a regal roll of his head in her general direction. Even though he was sitting, it was as if his face was still level with hers as she stood by the table, his voice commanding and his eyes giving a penetrating glare that said _you will not thwart me. _She nodded and placed several pieces of food on a plate and then sat beside him, next to his throne. She slowly raised a piece to her lips and tasted it with reluctance.


	12. Chapter 12

The Painted Door

Chapter Twelve

The taste was divine upon her lips. It was welcoming to her stomach. The twinges of hunger pain began to subside with each bite and piece she had. She forgot the need to maintain etiquette as her hunger took over and she then ate every single piece on her plate. And with the last savoring bite of the last piece of food, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the luxurious feeling that it gave her. She opened her eyes, remembering that she was seated next to the king and turned to look at him quickly, hoping that his gaze was fixed upon his subjects and not herself. To her dismay, the king had his gaze fixated upon her, watching every aspect of her countenance; a second glass of wine resting in his hand, waiting. He lifted it in her direction for her to take.

"I…" She started.

"Drink." He merely replied and then settled back into his throne more, convinced that he would not look upon her again, for her mannerisms were so similar to the Lark that it disturbed him profoundly. A growing anxiety was creeping into a place that he had buried long ago underneath hundreds of years' worth of stone. He kept his expression emotionless in an effort to maintain his social mask of complete confidence and aristocratic carelessness that he always projected to his subjects.

But his agony was short lived for the crowds to the ball room began to part to the sides. In the middle approached three figures in white, the rest of their company of thirty or so elves remained in the back of the dance hall. Of the three, two were male and one was female. The female held a small wooden chest with iron scroll work. All three stopped midway and then knelt downward just briefly in an introduction and then proceeded forward. The king was not disturbed by what could have been perceived as an informal introduction, but rose his face up and gave a long nod. They approached and stopped. The lead female stepped forward and bowed low.

"Majesty, a gift." She said, flipping the top of the chest that she held to reveal a stunning amount of gold and jewels.

The king's eyes lit and he smiled at the gold. "A noble gift from Enrisel and I thank him." He gave a wave of his hand and a small goblin approached the tall white figures. He was less than half their size and his skin was a dark cyan with darker browns in the creases, much like a well preserved tree. He was an elderly goblin and moved slowly as he took the iron chest and walked it till he was standing beside the king. The king eased the case from the goblin and waved him away. He placed the chest upon his knees and lifted the top. The light of the gold cast glittering rays upon his face and glinted in his green eyes. As his face dipped down, the long black strands of his raven hair brushed along the edges of the treasure. He smiled again and raised his head to the elves before him. They were tall and lithe and had long white-colored hair. They were not royals, but of infantry, for they wore tunics and pants of white and grey, outfitted with their swords and bows.

The king addressed the primary representative. "The king does not attend the Masquerade?"

"Highness, regretfully, he does not for the queen is ill."

"Ah." Erlkin replied with a serene smile. "Your party is welcome to remain and enjoy the festivities, captain."

Bowing low, the Captain replied, "We are honored, highness, and accept your hospitality."

The elves bowed once again to the king. Two goblin servants rushed forward and led the elves down the center of the room and out of the building to accommodate their horses and fit them with rooms in the palace. It would not be long before the elves would return to the ball room to join in the festivities. The king motioned to the old red goblin and instructed him to set up special tables of food and wine for the elves.

Odyna watched with bated breath. The white looking elves that had come into the room were just as luminous and beautiful as the king. It was like looking at white and black chess pieces. The Goblin King being dark and beautiful and the other elves being white and equally as beautiful. She was mesmerized as she watched, perched above the crowds and the elves. A bird's eye view that separated her even from herself. It felt as if she and Charles were at the opera house or the theater watching a play, like _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ by Shakespeare. They all looked like actors before her, all playing a part and she was anxious and excited to discover the roll that each player played. Excitement rose in her chest, an innocent and wistful smile extended upon her lips and she turned those brightly lit eyes to her partner, eager to whisper about the excitement of the scene. But instead of seeing soft chestnut eyes and red hair, she was staring into those deep green eyes instead. Her thoughts of the elves were suddenly lost to the fact that this was her new reality and not just an act in a play.

The treasures in the chest were nothing compared to the light that was exuded from her eyes at this moment. They were eyes that he knew, that he longed for and that had been lost to him for hundreds of years. They were the same eyes that had screamed wounding words of disbelief of himself and the faerie. He had watched the light leave those eyes. He had cradled that body in his arms and watched tears streak down her face. The same light that resonated in them now, he watched it leave. And as he stared intently at her heart-shaped face, the shimmer on her cheeks and the smile upon her black tinted lips, something resonated in him.

"You should not be here." His voice was low and laced with a growing growl that became menacing. "You cannot be here."

Elation was instantly replaced with fear. The smile stolen from her lips and replaced with a fearful tremor. Her blue eyes coated with a sheen of unshed tears that barely held check.

"Please…" she started, fearful of what he might do as he leaned toward her menacingly.

"Please…" he echoed. It was half mocking, half questioning. It was the start of a conversation from the past. He was curious if it would repeat itself, like a dream. That might confirm that he was indeed dreaming and that the Lark was dead. He must be sleeping, possibly waiting for the Solstice to start, for he had not had enough elfin wine to not remember the first night of celebrations.

"Please…spare me. I did not ask for that thing to bring me here to your strange world. I do not wish to impose upon you, or your generosity. If you could just return me… to my house, my betrothed, and my father, then I would trouble you no longer."

"I cannot. For, alas, I am bound." He said.

"Bound?" She questioned, poised at the edge of her chair. "Bound to what?"

"Rules."

"But Beezum said that you make up the rules, since you are the king."

Erlkin sneered at the thought of Beezum telling her that he merely made up the rules, for even Beezum was aware that there are certain rules within the Faerie realm that you just do not cross without consequences. Bringing an uncalled human was one of those rules. And yet, maybe she did call. Maybe subconsciously she did call to be lost and just didn't realize it. But it appeared that the circumstances were written in the other fashion, of a kidnapping. Erlkin could not and would not reverse the consequences to the water goblin that he had already enforced, yet he also knew to keep her would have its own consequences.

"There are certain rules that are not broken, regardless of your status, little lark."

"Must you insist upon calling me that name? You must know that it is not my name." She regarded him in a challenging manner, tempting him to ask of her real name.

He clenched down on his jaw and the muscles constricted there, set and firm. He gave a look of reproach. "Words have power, little Lark. To name something is to have power over it." He abruptly stood from the throne, frustrated by her, thrusting his hands behind his back. He looked down upon her as she still sat. Naturally a subject would instantly rise to their feet if the king stood, but he had shocked her so in the response that she numbly remained. "It is not fair or right for me to abuse my power, even if you unknowingly tempt me with it. I shall not be swayed."

He stepped away from her and paused for several minutes. Then he swung toward her, his robes sweeping out in his quick movement. "Take your leave of me now. The hour grows late and you must be exhausted."

She bit on her lip for she was no further than she had been. Her stomach had ceased to ache with hunger, but now her pride and heart hurt for she did not know what she did to offend the king. She did not understand how she got here or why she remained or how to get home. Lastly, she admitted that she was saddened that the king was now upset with her, and over a name. How silly! She did not understand this place. Even if this place was just a magical dream, she wanted it to be a pleasant dream. And he was not pleasant at the moment, he was flippant with his mannerisms and attitudes, hot one minute and cold another. She slowly rose from the chair before him. She gave a deep and respectful curtsy, and said with a quiet and humble voice.

"Majesty, I do not know the way to go for I am lost here."

It was completely innocent, her response. She was merely being honest, as she did not know the way back to her bedchamber in order to take leave of his presence, but her words chipped at his resolve, melting his icy stare and warming him slightly. The petrified sharp green of his eyes gave way and almost seemed to become viscous like liquid sap, swirling and captivating. He was before her instantly, reaching one of her hands and lifting it in his own, almost as if to study it. Her chest grew tight, despite the flowing looseness of the spider silk dress she wore. He raised his other hand, tracing one of the oak leaves at her shoulder and touching the beadwork, allowing his finger to follow as the leaf dripped off. He then stopped and boldly traced some of the labyrinth pattern on her bodice and he heard the sharp intake of her breath as his finger followed the singular path of the circle pattern till it stopped in the center at her heart.

"Mercy…" He whispered. He did not know if he was being asked to give mercy or if he was begging her for it.

"Mercy?" She huskily replied, full of confusion.

"Mercy? After you have been so cruel to me this night?"

Her face did not reflect an expression of confusion or fear, only an openness for understanding. It took him by surprise, for he found himself continuing to test his memories of the Lark to see if they would match with this little Lark before him. On certain point she would confirm she was the Lark and at other points, she was an entirely different entity. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, beg her to sing for him, hold her in his hands as the beautiful bird she would transform into. _Prove me wrong_, his mind screamed, _for I do not wish to face truth_ _or the consequences that will come of the truth!_

She wanted to touch his face, to capture the green that lived in his eyes and bottle as her own. They had magic in them and his voice was laced with a smooth caress that made it difficult to think. His finger that rested upon her breast at her heart burned with fire. As if a voice were telling her to expose that space so that he may claim it.

"Are you sure you don't want to be lost?" He questioned.

"Woodland king, are my offenses so great that they are unforgiveable in your eyes?"

"How you tease me so, little lark. Take leave of me and know that you are pardoned _this_ night." The corner in his mouth turned up slightly and he took her hand, escorting her down from the dais. He called for one of the servants to get the older goblin, Dervish, to take her to her room. He bowed slightly to Odyna in a bid of good night. As she waited for Dervish to appear, she watched as the King, back to his regal and aloof self, strolled down the ballroom and toward the crowds of guests. Almost at once, the woman that he had called Nightingale came to him. Odyna had no choice but to watch the interchange between them and she did so with narrowed eyes. The Nightingale pressed close to him, whispering in his ear. His hand played at her back and he smiled at words that she whispered. She even touched a strand of his long black hair and played with it between her fingers.

Odyna breathed slowly and was startled when he looked from across the hall and right at her. She cast her eyes away, quick to find something to look at instead of him. She tried to focus on the beauty of a decorated Douglas fir tree that stood off in the distance. The candles sitting at the ends of the branches were almost out and the wax had made large pools upon the stone floor. She was startled from her stare when she felt a finger tap at her hand, drawing her eyes to the cyan-colored goblin that had finally arrived to escort her to her bedchamber. She gave a deep sigh from her chest as she would be happy to sleep and quit herself of the king, even if for just a small amount of time. Hopefully she would just awake from this dream and be at home, though she was beginning to doubt it.

Beezum started awake from a dream. It was a dream of that fateful day when the Lark had died. He had been standing post as ordered by his King, working the leger books and determining the supplies needed for the castle when the sound of the door began. He had wanted to leave the door but righted himself to his duties and called another to help him with getting the door open, even though he was not sure that the Lark would be the one to open it. The dream was following the events just as they had happened in real life but then the dream changed. He and the other goblin worked to swing the door inward, and as they did, they saw the Lark and another at the threshold. There was a whirlwind of activity on the other side and he and the other goblin abandoned the door. Beezum turned to the other goblin and informed him to tell the runners that the portal was opening, while he hid behind his small table to wait for what approached.

The Lark was staggering through the door but she paused and turned around. Beezum could see a small child rushing to cross the threshold of the door as the Lark extended her hand and called her name. Odyna, she had replied. If his memory served right, a man had come behind the child and swept her in his arms before she was able to cross the doorway. But in this version of the dream, the child did cross the threshold and as she did, her body transformed from a child to a young woman. Beezum looked as the child was suddenly the woman that had been presented to the king, along with his ring by the water goblin.

An explanation for the dream could be that he took the events of the day and mixed them up with memories, sewing them together so that it seemed like coincidence. However, there was an unsettled feeling in his bones that Beezum knew not to doubt after such so many centuries of living. Beezum scurried from his bed to find the king. The king would not be happy to hear that he thought the "guest" was the daughter of Jackson, his enemy.


	13. Chapter 13

The Painted Door

Chapter Thirteen

The sounds of the ball died into a white noise that hovered in the back of Odyna's mind as she was led down the side of the ballroom by the older goblin named Dervish. He was rather ancient in manner and speed and seemed to creep along. To Odyna, it felt like an eternity to maneuver through the crowds of goblin folk and the others that occupied the vast hall. Dervish lead her down the steps and out into the garden they needed to cross to get back to the main castle where her room was. At this point she could see that many of the white Elves had returned to partake of the festivities. They were beautiful in the moonlight as their hair and skin echoed its soft glow.

Dervish led her through an opening that would take them back past the two great hearths in the throne room. Before the fire was the approaching outline of an Elf as he quickly strolled down the length of the fireplaces. He was not dressed in a tunic and pants like the other elves that had approached the king. This elf was dressed in finery.

"Prince Alareik," Odyna said as she presented him with a quick, but respectful, curtsy.

The Prince was in such a rush that he had passed by them without even really taking note of the figures next to him, but at hearing his name, he paused and turned his head. He took in the form of Odyna in the gossamer gown with the flowing cape and horns. He noted how beautiful she was, but he did not recognize her. Turning around, he came back to her.

"How is it that I do not know such a lovely creature that appears to know and address me?"

She cowered slightly at the results of her own boldness to speak his name as he passed, chastising herself. He stepped forward and reached for her hand to bring it to his lips in a genteel introduction. As he did so, it was as if the contact with her flesh shocked him. He felt electrified as her scent pervaded his own. He caught the smell of lavender upon her skin and the smell of honeysuckles from the perfume, but there was something more –above it all—was the essence of mortal human. A human that was untouched by magic.

He quickly let go of her hand and raised eyes alight with shock to her face. This new knowledge set his heart to race slightly and his warrior instincts to emerge. But he hid his alarm with a tempered smile. Such a treasure to find; to hide; indeed a forbidden treasure that the Goblin King dared to covet. His eyes were intently peering into her face, intrigued by this knowledge. Why would the Goblin King harbor a mortal human in the realm—forgoing the rules? Could it be that he was waiting for the Winter Solstice to end? All his creatures would take their human forms anyway, so he could just be waiting for the week to end before changing her. But that was not typical of the Goblin King or of the rules set forth for the kingdom. So what made her special? Humans could not reside in the realm as they are or they would destroy it. Maybe he had other plans for her instead. Though he scanned her face, it left no hints of an answer for him.

There stood this young elf prince with bright eyes and ash blond tresses. But his mouth contained a bit of scorn to it and despite his luminosity, his countenance had a darkness about it. He was trimly built and his finery was elaborately constructed. His body was poised and graceful as he stood there assessing Odyna and his scrutiny made her tremble with a shiver. He noted her nervousness, the corner of his mouth turned up in this secret knowledge as he spoke, almost in a whisper.

"And what shall I call you, as you already know my name?"

She almost spoke her name but it quietly died upon her lips as she recalled the words that the king had just reprimanded her for. The idea behind offering up one's name and that to do so would be offering that person power caused her to hesitate. With these thoughts racing through her mind, she merely offered up a sheepish smile. Inclining her head, she provided the name that the king had called her all night.

"Little Lark, you may call me that."

The prince narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips slightly. Then he gave a shielded smirk. _Clever girl, _he thought to himself.

"Little Lark," he repeated. "How odd!"

Odyna swallowed and gave a nervous laugh, her confidence waning before him. He was watching her countenance so queerly that it made her nervous and she faltered slightly in her recourse.

"Odd?" she questioned. "How so?"

The prince gave a wave of his hand, as if knocking away the awkwardness of their encounter, changing the subject to safeguard the secret.

"You were given no mask to wear, as it is a tradition at the Goblin Ball."

"Oh," she let out a pent up sigh that she didn't realized she had been holding in her chest. This beautiful elf prince with his light long hair and dark piercing eyes, regardless of their sky blue color, made her panicky inside. She felt that revealing anything about herself was somehow disappointing the king; more like betraying him somehow. All she wished to do now was flee and hide in her room.

"I was not given a mask to wear," she stammered. "I suppose that I was a bit unexpected this evening and I must be on my way now."

The prince seemed to lean on every word she said, still looking at her intently, as if trying to figure out some type of puzzle. Odyna cast her eyes to the small cyan goblin that was patiently waiting for their conversation to end, placing her hand upon his shoulder to encourage their departure.

"Are you lost?" Prince Alareik pressed as he drew closer to her, his question laced with a double meaning that Odyna did not understand.

"I…ah…no!" She smiled nervously. "Dervish is showing me the way to my chamber. I shall be fine with him."

She gave a quick curtsy and gently nudged the goblin to proceed so she could quit the prince's audience. Something about his question alarmed her in the back of her mind, tremendously. It was the same type of intensity with which the king had just inquired about _wishing_ to be lost. The fact of the matter was that she was "lost" and she knew that she needed to get home. She did not glance back at the prince as she continued to follow Dervish till he brought her to the upper floors and presented her at the threshold of her bedchamber. She opened the door and hurried in without even a thank you to the old Goblin before she shut the solid wooden door.


	14. Chapter 14

The Painted Door

Chapter Fourteen

After Erlkin had sent Odyna off, he managed to slowly maneuver himself through the grand ballroom and then disappear out through the garden, just missing the incoming elf Prince Alareik. Now, Erlkin passed through the fog and stillness of the last hour of the night, quiet and unseen, as he was no longer in his regal garb but in his black and green hunting attire. Intermittent raindrops streaked on his face and he knew that the night belonged to him and him alone. Others might cower together in fear of the night, but not him, he embraced the night like a lost love. But this night she was like a light in the night, blinding him and thwarting his path. She moved him forward, yet she led him astray. She was a distraction that he could not ignore and he knew that he must know the truth. He continued on, toward the entrance to the labyrinth where the truth would be confronted. He increased his pace as the raindrops on his face dripped off and bled into the racing stars.

He slowed as he approached the entrance to the labyrinth. This is where he had placed her, his greatest muse; the Lark. He needed to confirm that she wasn't there, that the young woman that had mysteriously presented herself at his court was indeed the woman that he lost. If it was, he would finally be able to breathe easier. His eyes flamed in the darkness, his body tense with knowing. As he grew closer, a large darkened figure loomed before him. It sat on a carved marble base. It was a beautiful lithe and naked form of a young woman. It was the form of the Lark. He had changed her into that of an ideal female angel carved from marble. Her wings were shaped like they were beginning to fold up as if she was just landing, her toes just barely touching the rounded marble pedestal. Her hair was long with parts resting about her shoulders and flowing down her back. In her hand she held a circle of pure gold that was a shadowed yellow in the dark of the night. Her face was looking down upon the disk, it's surface held the labyrinth symbol. She was the personification of the waning hours one was permitted to complete the labyrinth as the sun, moon and stars were carved into the base upon which she barely touched. Her downcast face was soft and serene, but slightly aloof and withdrawn.

He eased forward and placed weary hands upon the base, his head hung in defeat. She was here. Which could only mean that the young woman in the ballroom was someone else. Some other mortal human that merely looked similar to Lark. Someone that did not belong and must either be returned to the mortal world or changed.

He breathed slowly, listening to the sounds of the night as he thought about his next move. He tried to press down the feeling of grief and agony that threatened to seep forth from the piles of stone he had place in his heart. He cursed silently to himself as he stood up and looked to the Lark once more. He gingerly placed his hand upon the calf of the statue and caressed it, missing her.

Erlkin's instincts pricked to life as he heard someone approach. They were trying to be quiet but doing a horrible job of it. Obviously they were not the hunter that he was and he could tell by the sounds being made that it was a female. He spoke as she grew closer.

"Leave me!" He bellowed, not turning from his place near the statue. His tone barely hiding the anguish and anger that threatened to spill forth from him if provoked. She did not leave as his words demanded but came even closer, to the point that she could touch his shoulder if she wanted. Nightingale stood behind the king. She was no longer wearing the large horned headdress and her black hair was long and straight behind her back. It was so long that it fell past her waist and to the edge of her rear. She tentatively reached her fingers out to touch his shoulder but then drew them back.

"Erlkin," she began.

"Dare you speak my name?" He spat out and turned around upon her. His black cape swirled around to reveal his dark hunting garb that only helped his person blend into the night. His attitude was just at black as the evening before the sun's rays dared to caress the horizon. He was poised to pounce and his stance was like a caged animal. "Dare you use my name to gain favor with me?"

She defiantly thrust out her chin, her dark eyes determined and driven. Though she spoke his name, she had decided a while ago that she would no longer try to lure him with cajoling or charm. She ground her feet into the dirt, taking a stance toward the angry Goblin King.

"Yes, I dare!"

"What do you want Nightingale, for my patience is as long as the few minutes left of this night."

"Give me what I want." She half-demanded and half-pleaded with him.

"Which is?"

"To be human once more."

"You are not meant to be anything other than what you are!"

"And what is that?" She implored, her voice rising in anger.

"Yourself as I have made you!" He replied. A noise of exasperation came as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was growing tired of her petulance already.

"I despise myself." She whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He raised himself to his full height, which towered over her form in the beautiful red dress. He grabbed her by the elbows pulling her small form toward his looming face. His beauty was distorted by grief and anger.

"How little you know. You have no idea what you are asking for."

"And yet, you let the Lark go!" She raged at him. She fisted her hands and tried to beat them upon his dark leather chest. Such a futile attempt she made, for it was like and ant beating upon a giant oak tree. With a swat he could dispatch her, but instead he merely jarred her with a shake since she was already in his grasp.

"I did not let the Lark go, she was stolen from me!"

"You are such a liar! A manipulator of truth! You let her go! For you could have stopped Jackson if you wanted. You could have stopped them both if you had really wanted. But you….you let her go, on purpose! And yet you continue to keep me!" At this point the tears began to well up in her dark eyes. They threatened to spill and cascade down her face, but her own rage kept them in check.

"You do not know what you ask for."

"I have not forgotten what you stole from me. I have not, all these centuries."

He yanked her within his arms and threaded his hand into her hair so that he could stare into her eyes. "I merely stole what asked to be stolen, my love."

"_Release me._" The words stole from her mouth with a hiss, but they were in the tongue of the elves. His face registered a slight shock, his eyes icing over with distain and anger.

She fought within his embrace, writhing and wiggling to get free. Then suddenly he let her go with a shove and she fell down upon the ground. She cast accusing brown eyes up to his green.

"A betrothal ….I was to be married! And my name, I have never forgotten it. I still remember!"

"Keep that spoiled little mouth of your silenced!" He yelled at her, balling his black leather hand into a fist.

"Let me go and grant me the mercy you gave Mugnut this night!"

Erlkin vehemently hissed at her, "He is nameless now. Speak not who he used to be."

"You are cruel and evil. I hate you!" Still upon the ground in her red dress, she violently slammed her hand into the dirt. Tears dripped to mingle with her hand. She quickly scrambled to her feet and dusted the dirt from her dress. He decreased the space between them with one step and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her head until their gazes met. Fierce green to fierce brown.

"And yet I still love you Nightingale, more than you will realize. Though you may view me as cruel, you are wrong. I saved you if you remember. You, lost….don't you recall? I save that which is lost. You called out to me with your lost-ness and I saved you." She jerked her chin away from his grasp and stepped back. He continued to pursue and backed her up to a tall hedge. "I gave you a new name and called you my own. I made you into a new creation and yet….here you are, accusing me of being cruel. Look at all that I provide for you and, yet, I ask so little of you."

"You are a monster! You only love me as a possession! A trinket to keep and a prize to claim, when you treat me as nothing."

"You are so wrong." He said to her in a loving manner. "And yet you wish to leave me and rejoin a world that has monsters more fierce than myself that will tear at you and destroyed you, body and soul. You wish to surround yourself with the hearts of men. You have no idea of the hearts of men and what they are capable of."

"You deny me the opportunity of love- of a life- a real life.

"Love! You would know love here if you had not let your heart become so hardened with bitterness and self-pity. You see and yet you do not see. You hear and yet your ears are still deaf. You know and yet you understand nothing. You wish for me to return you to a world that is fallen and corrupt. Only a perceived paradise when you have all of that and more here if you would just look and understand."

"You let her go to it with him!"

"Everybody's walk is different Nightingale. She returned to me if you remember correctly. I fear that if I granted your wish, you would not. You have planted a bitter seed in that heart of yours against me. You think that I have stolen your life, when, in truth I have given it to you. You have no idea how you wound me with your words and actions." He pulled her small frame into his strong arms, encasing her like steel, his voice grew low and silken with his magic. "There once was a time when you loved me."

"You loved her more than me. You favored her more than me." She said pushing against him once more.

"Nightingale…"

_"No! For I love another!" _the elfish words escaped the confinement of her lips.

Erlkin let her go and walked away from her, back toward the statue of the Lark. Not looking up toward its beauty, but staring beyond it, to the hidden depths of the labyrinth- he finally turned and inquisitively asked of her, "Who planted this seed of hatred within you?"

"You did!" She vehemently murmured.

"No, that is not how I work and you know it."

"I have never forgiven you from when met. And when you began to favor her…her…my anger flourished."

"The difference between you both was that she sought to truly know me, where you, you did not wish to understand; but function from a jaded perspective that only focused on the past and resentments, not what I could offer you and the part that you could play. I would have granted you a hundredfold- so much more- but you threw it away on hatred. You let that anger steal a wonderful harvest of joy."

He marched back toward her smaller form and grabbed her wrist, wrenching her toward him once again. His grip was fierce and his fingers bit into the flesh at her arm. He grit his teeth with anger at her revolt against him. How many centuries had this angst been brewing between them, this constant fight for a perceived freedom? He towered above her and the strength of his grasp caused her to whimper in pain.

"That pain is nothing compared to the pain you will feel there." He looked down into her face. "Nothing compared to the pain you cause me now, my Nightingale."

"Release me!" she pleaded.

"Perhaps I should!" He pulled her closer to him, his face close to her own. He bent his lips down and hovered over her own lips. She struggled against him, turning her face away. But he caught hold of her face and stared into her eyes until she ceased to struggle. "Maybe I shall grant you mercy, but I will not break our bond together. I will not release you from your name. You will remember it. You will remember me and when you cry out from the other side and call upon my name, I will not hear you!"

Her breath grew labored, her chest heaving in his tight embrace. Erlkin's strong arm was wrapped about her waist in an iron lock. With a swift moment, he had his dagger within his hand and lifted it. It gleamed as the first rays of the rising sun began to creep up past the horizon, glinting as it remained poised.

"This is what you want?"

"Yes." She whispered.

He sighed deeply and shook his head slightly. The menace suddenly gone from his countenance and tone. He brought the raised knife down to his side, her body still pressed into his own at their waists. He brushed his lips across her temple and hair, his breath was light as he brought his lips down along the curve of her chin, lastly, brushing his lips on hers. She sank into his embrace. Her breathing was not shallow with passion but with relief and fatigue. She could smell the thick scents of autumn all around him. Her eyelids grew heavy and drooped as he tightened his hold on her. "Then I shall not deny you the mercy you beg for," he whispered softly into her ear. A whimper escaped from her as she felt him shift slightly. He thrust the dagger between them and into her heart. She caught her breath as it slid in, buried up to the hilt. And then she began to fall, or it was the feeling of falling. Her hand shot out, but it slammed into something hard. It was his chest and arm. She couldn't see anything as blackness started to consume her vision. She tried to form words upon her lips but nothing came forth. He continued to hold her next to him as he watched the enchantment leave her body, rendering her mortal once again.


	15. Chapter 15

The Painted Door

Chapter 15

Erlkin tossed his black cape back past his shoulder and shifting his weight, scooped up Nightingales legs, lifting her unconscious and limp form in his arms. He stared down at her sleeping person. Her head lulled gently as he settled her into his chest; a comfortable position to carry. He looked upon her face, she was paler than usual and she had a sheen of perspiration from their interlude. There were stray wisps of black hair that began to cling to the sweat at her temple that he wanted to push away. She looked peaceful in her slumber, free of the anger that she had presented earlier during their fight. She would sleep for some time before awaking and it would be best to get her back to the security of the castle until he decided what to do with her now that she was mortal.

The night's deepness lessened as the first rays of the sun began to lift skyward, stretching long glimmering fingers passed the horizon. The stars winked their last goodbyes quietly and tiredly as they began to disappear. The moon smiled once more as it too began to fade from view. The sun's rays illuminated the edges of several of the clouds with a pinky-peachy hue while others changed from a dark grey to a softer purple color as the day awakened. It looked as if this day would be filled with more spring than the previous had with gloomier skies. He smiled slightly to himself as he knew the vast majority of his kingdom would be sleeping through the entire day to counter the night's celebration of food, dancing and wine. And just as the afternoon or evening began to descend again they would awake to celebrate more till the week's end.

He turned to leave, with Nightingale in tow, but the pleasant feeling evaporated like dew on a hot morning as he confronted three elves standing before him.

Before him stood Prince Alareik and on either side of him were two of his company, both holding ready with their bows and arrows poised to soar straight for him. Further in the background, Erlkin noted that another elf stood, as if on guard to send warning of any that dared to approach. His body only half-turned to the scene at hand. He too, had his bow out and ready only it did not face in his direction.

Erlkin arched his eyebrow in contempt to the elves standing before him, waiting for them to make the first move. The standoff seemed to stretch for minutes, but was really only seconds before the prince spoke, addressing Erlkin in elfish.

_"What did you do?"_

_"What I do with my subjects in my kingdom is really of no concern to you."_ Erlkin cocked his eyebrow, his anger made his chiseled features even more pronounced and sinister. He stepped forward as if to pay them no mind; audacious that they should even question his authority. Instantly the two poised guards tracked the king's moves with their arrows, re-positioning for accuracy.

Prince Alareik gave a pedigreed smile, formalities in place as the son of any King would be schooled upon. He raised his hands up as if it was beyond his control that his guards would have arrows fixed upon him.

_"Alas, I am afraid that your actions have been brought into question, majesty!"_ He tilted his head, giving the king a raised eyebrow and an insinuating look. The Prince upped the game and the Goblin King was not one to back down to the challenge at hand. Alareik was blatantly making an accusation against him, despite the fact that he continued to hold the unconscious Nightingale in his arms, he refused to cower or move from any position save forward. He raised his regal head, jutting out his chin and staring down his nose upon the Prince.

_"Do tell,"_ he spoke with a controlled smile, daring the Prince to question his motives.

_"I came upon a stunning sight tonight—oh you will forgive my tardiness at arriving late—but it was a most opportune coincidence that I encountered a lovely creature of your realm. Truly a sight to be held for she was exquisite. A treasure indeed…" _

If he could have, Erlkin would have rolled his eyes at the prince as he rambled on about one of his creatures, for these -the nights of the Winter Solstice –when they had freedom of choice-would be when they were their most exquisite and truly out of character in an attempt to impress him and each other.

_"Your point?"_ He said has he inclined his head and shifted Nightingale as if to impress upon him that he had other things to deal with.

The sarcastic remark did nothing to break the game they played together with their words or formalities. The prince merely stepped forward slightly, lifting a hand as if to paint an image with his next words_. "Honeysuckles do smell rather sweet in the winter time, do they not?"_

Erlkin's black brows drew together and his features darkened as the Prince confronted him about the Little Lark. His eyes lit as if they were afire with rage and his body tensed-his height straitening—reacting just slightly, but providing enough of a reaction for the Prince to feel justified.

The Prince smiled wider and nodded, pointing a nonchalant finger at him.

_"That's all I needed to know."_ He turned, looking over his shoulder and shouted, _"Brumen."_

The elf that stood farthest from them, the one the prince called Brumen, suddenly sent an arrow whizzing through the air at lightning speed to other members of the Prince's guard standing post down the hill toward the castle grounds.

Erlkin fumed inside like a volcano ready to spew ash and lava upon all in his pathway. First Mugnut, then Nightingale and now this brash prince and all because of HER! This day would be his ruin! He could only speculate what the warning arrow would mean, but he knew it was not in his best interest or that of his kingdom. An attack on the night of a Solstice was unheard of! How could this petty ant think to thwart his kingdom or his rule? He knew that he needed to quit these elves as fast as possible. If he did not hold Nightingale in his arms, then a fight would ensue and he would crush them. If he made the move to place her upon the ground then they would take that as a sign of an engagement to fight. He thought better of that move. His last resort, other than to call upon the beasts of the hunt (which might not arrive in time) would be to use magic. Such an effort would drain him considerably of energy, especially after such a long night and considering that he would be transporting two instead of one. Securing the castle and his people from the elves would be a priority and to make that happen, he would need to find Beezum and get a warning out.

Erlkin set his strong jaw and lightly whispered ancient words of magic that would transport himself and the Nightingale to the security of the throne room. He closed his eyes just briefly, visualizing the throne room in his mind's eye. He could see the double hearths before him. He could hear the crackle and the hiss as the flames danced upon the logs. He could begin to feel the heat penetrate his shirt. As he envisioned the place he wanted to be, his form—and that of the Nightingale—began to fade and swirl into a black smoke.

Prince Alareik took no hesitation but motioned to the guards at his sides to fire their arrows. One arrow sailed through the half-mist form of Erlkin and sped right through, burying itself into one of the boxwood hedges surrounding the perimeter of the Labyrinth. As Erlkin was just beginning to see the hearths rise before his eyes, the second arrow hit its mark, sinking deep into his hamstring. Knowing that he would not be able to complete the transport after being wounded, he dropped his arms, letting go of Nightingale. Her faded form did not manifest before the elves and she abruptly crashed onto the stone floor before the fireplaces, jolting her awake with a cry of pain.

Erlkin's body became solid once more before the Elves, lacking the woman that had occupied his arms, and he was crouched to lunge forward as soon as his feet touched the solid ground. Pain seared upward into his hip in the effort to move it with such speed. He pressed it down to the back of his mind as he lunged forward at the first arrow wielding elf, dagger drawn and encircled him from the back, quickly slashing deep into his throat and spilling hot blood down the front of his body. The second elf aimed again and shot another arrow toward Erlkin, but he used the body of the white elf as a shield and caught the arrow.

"Damn!" Prince Alareik shouted, pulling his sword from its sheath as he saw Erlkin rush toward him. The loyal elf to his side, Silevon, had shoved him backwards and fired off a shot at Erlkin that he dodged before quickly maneuvering behind him. The King's dagger had been quick, slicing into his guard. Alareik had made the briefest of eye contact with Silevon before the blood sprayed forward and rushed down his chest, his head falling forward in death. He was intent on retrieving the unconscious form of Nightingale from the Erlkin's possession, but as his form became solid, she was not within his arms. He had been successful in transferring her body to some other place. "Brumen", he called to his most trusted guard. "Nightingale is not with the king. She must be somewhere in the castle and I need to find her."

As the second elf guard took seconds to draw his bow once again, Erlkin dropped Silevon's body before him in a crumpled mess of blood and white and snapped the arrow that was jutting from his thigh. It would be easier to use without the end of the bow sticking out. He could not help but cry out at the pain as the arrow blistered into two pieces. He raised his head with flashing green eyes, breathing through grit teeth and pain, seeking out his attackers.

The second of the prince's elves, Erthoril, stepped forward to continue to try and land shots at Erlkin. His accuracy was much better than Silevon's, his being the one to penetrate Erlkin's thigh. Prince Alareik had pulled his sword but was calling back to Brumen for additional aid so that he could abandon the fight and look for Nightingale. The pieces were coming together. The one that Nightingale had spoken of must have been the Prince. He was the one that had taught her to speak in elfish. They must have been planning this betrayal for some time. The knowledge only lent strength to Erlkin's rage.

Another arrow whistled passed the side of his face, and it had come from Brumen's bow. Erlkin ducked, turning ever so gracefully and skilled, managing to miss two more shots. One from Erthoril and Brumen. He dived to his side and let out a gasp of pain as his wounded leg hit upon the ground. He felt an arrow slice through the black of his tunic, but the cut was nothing more than a scrape thanks to the leather and banding of the shirt. He managed to roll over and then was upon his feet again, only his dagger was poised and he flung it through the air at Erthoril.

Erthoril had had his arm cocked back to release the arrow but the dagger from Erlkin was much faster and drilled straight and deep into his eye. He did not fumble or knell, but fell backward, dead on impact with the earth. Erlkin rushed forward to free his dagger from the eye socket of the young elf, pulling it quickly and crouching near the body, ready to use it as a shield against his last attacker, the elf Brumen.

Erlkin glanced quickly around, yet could not see Brumen. He knew that he would not retreat back to the castle to find Prince Alareik but endure until he had captured him. He hefted the body of the young elf up, pulling out as many arrows from the shoulder quiver as he could fit in his hand. Grabbing the bow, he quickly shuffled backward toward the statue of the Lark for cover and to get his bearings.

A trail of smoke crept skyward in the distance from the castle. The elves had set fire to something and noises began to echo over the landscape to the Labyrinth where he and Brumen were engaged. Erlkin eased himself up from behind the statue, looking toward the plumes of black smoke trailing in the sky. He needed to get back to the castle. Most of his subjects would be take completely off guard by a raid on a celebration night. They would be weak, tired, intoxicated still and most did not have weapons. It was the goblins that possessed the weaponry of the castle and they would not be prepared either. Though the attacking group of elves was small, they held the advantage.

Just out of the corner of Erlkin's eye, he saw movement at the edge of the hedge. Narrowing his eyes he could just barely see the hint of Brumen's pale skin and hair as he stood at the edge. He was using a dagger to see if he could spot Erlkin the in reflection. Erlkin tried to reposition himself, but the pain in his leg coiled up and wrapped into his hip. He bit down on his lip so hard that he drew blood in an effort not to alert Brumen to his location. Erlkin quietly moved to his left around the statue to get a better shot at Brumen. If he was quick about it, it would only take one, maybe two shots to fell him. Though Brumen wasn't as young as the other two elves that Erlkin killed, he was more experienced.

Erlkin readied the arrow on the bow, holding them both in one hand. He looked about and picked up a small rock. Then he tossed it in a direction that he hoped to get Brumen to shift his position. The first rock did not work. Erlkin closed his eyes and tried to use magic, conjuring the sound of birds rustling in the hedges just beyond his shoulder. It weakened Erlkin even more to do this, but it got Brumen to shift his body and quickly peer out. Instantly Erlkin was up with the bow and arrow, pulling it back with lightning speed to send off at Brumen's head. The arrow would have met its mark, when Erlkin suddenly felt like a knife was being stabbed into his heart.

The feeling didn't occur just once, but again and again. Erlkin gasped, dropping to his good knee. The bow and arrow almost forgotten. He looked to the castle and knew. They were killing is people for he could feel the bonds he held with them being separated like the cutting of a tight string or the severing of an umbilical cord of a mother and child. The pain of the loss was intense. Suddenly he heard a rushing, trilling sound through the air as Brumen's arrow caught him in the shoulder. He didn't know what hurt more, the arrow or knowing that his people were being slaughtered. He fell with the arrow upon the ground and blackness enveloped him.


	16. Chapter 16

The Painted Door

Chapter 16

Nightingale pushed herself up to a half-seated position on the floor. She arms wobbled under the weight of her own body. She felt woozy and weak, looking around. The last she remembered was the strength of Erlkin's arms around her waist and the flashing anger of his green eyes….and a feeling of peace. She struggled to stand to her feet, her muscles tense and sore. What had happened? She looked to the fires in the throne room where she stood, she was the only one there. She turned and looked down to the end of the room. The king's throne was hid in shadows as its dark wood blended into the recesses, morning's light had not yet begun to creep through the windows that lined the sides. The beeswax candles that sat upon the branches of the festively decorated trees lining the hall had been long since quenched. She moved a bit closer to the hearth to warm herself in the dampness of the morning, hoping that it would loosen the stiff muscles that didn't seem to want to respond to her mind. She watched as the fire made a dance upon the edge of a huge log, sharing its heat with her. As she watched, the fog of her memory lifted and she remembered what Erlkin had done.

She glanced down at her person, she remained in the evening dress that she had worn to the masquerade the night before. It was crumpled and had dirt upon it from where she had sunk to the ground during her confrontation with the king. She traced her fingers over the gold scaling till her fingers found the hole in the fabric where the king's dagger had penetrated. She stuck her fingers through but felt no wound. The realization hit her that she was free of his enchantment. Human once again, but he was right for she still remembered everything and she could still feel a tie to him.

She was jolted from her wandering mind as she began to hear commotion coming from the throne room entrance to her right. A tendril of fear laced through her heart, where before she would not have been afraid. Something was off about the sounds. Craning her neck she listened and could hear the sounds of panic, cries and then screams. The air lifted slightly and the smell of fire dance upon the air it but it did not come from the fire before her. She was unsure if she should proceed toward the commotion for flee from it.

Nightingale did not have to wait to make a decision on the matter for from the left-hand side of the throne room came a small figure running toward her. It was the head steward, Beezum. His blue cheeks were flushed with a rosy tint as he had been running all over the castle. As he spotted the form of Nightingale before the fire, he picked up the pace of his small legs rushing to her as fast as he could.

"Nightingale!" he cried out. "Nightingale….we must flee to safety."

"What? Why?" she inquired, her face was bare of any ill expression.

"Do you not know? Prince Alareik has raided the castle. His guards have set fires….our people... our people lay dead!

His face was imploring and he brought his small form closer to her, staring up into her face, for he was only about a third of her height. He pressed the small spectacles further on his nose and gave a defeated sigh.

"Nor can I find his majesty, for I have other news I must share with him."

"What is it?" she questioned.

"It is mere speculation, but I believe that the guest that arrived last night is the daughter of the Lark."

"Daughter?" Nightingale repeated.

"Yes, but we have no time to discuss it! Come we must make haste and find the king." He grabbed at her wrist and began to lead her toward the exit he just came from. But as he grabbed, he turned his face to her in shock, just a quickly releasing her wrist as if the contact had seared his flesh. He tottered backward in shock. "Human? What has happened?"

"Erlkin has released me!" she said.

"Where is he?"

"He was at the labyrinth when he did. But I awoke here, so I do not know if he remains there."

Their conversation was interrupted for the sounds of boots upon stone entered the throne room from the right, where the sounds of commotion had been heard. Prince Alareik and two elven guards at his sides had rushed in. The guards though close, where spread far enough from the Prince to cast their arrows at presenting danger and to take the hit if the Prince were threatened. Alareik had his hand upon the hilt of his sword ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of an impending fight. His leg flashed the brilliance of a calf dagger in silver, so polished and bright that it looked hardly used.

They caught notice of Nightingale and Beezum and took determined steps toward them. Beezum's large black eyes grew wide at their approach and he grabbed Nightingale's arm once more. He turned and started to pull to flee from the opposite entryway to the throne room, the direction in which he had come to Nightingale.

"Quickly, they must not get us." Beezum hissed as he yanked at her arm. But his determined effort was thwarted and it was he who was yanked back for Nightingale did not move from her spot. She actually turned her body more toward the Prince than away.

"My lady, please…" Beezum tugged again.

From across the closing gap of space between them, Prince Alareik increased his brisk walking to a trot to reach her faster, a look of determination was woven into his brows. Beezum looked past the taller form of Nightingale to see that Alareik was nearly upon and he implored her once again to leave.

"My lady?" he inquired as his voice began to rise in panic as the form of the Prince was a hair's breathe too dangerously close for his comfort. He cursed, turning to run from them both. The large round of keys at his side rattled loudly as they brushed past his leg with every stride. He could hear as the Prince yelled for him to stop. Arrows had been launched and whizzed by in warning shots. One landing just past his feet, causing him to swerve and trip. He fell down up on his small blue hands, skinning the palms of his large knuckled hands and tearing a hole at the knee of his britches, the keys clattering and echoing in the otherwise quiet of the throne room. He scrambled to his feet and turned to look at the two tall elves encircled him with bows drawn. He watched passed them as Prince Alareik had stopped before the still form of Nightingale. His eyes held her own captive for what seemed like an eternity. He was across to her in mere seconds and his quickness caused her to react with guarded hands. Then she felt the warmth of his hand as it came to her cheek and his arm embraced her.

Beezum's could not stop his mouth from dropping in shock as he witnessed Nightingale throw her arms about his neck. Alareik pulled her into his chest by her waist. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered her name upon his lips. If he had been anything less than the stout and reserved Goblin he prided himself on being after so many centuries of life, he would have fainted at the sight. He was no less than shocked by the treachery that unfolded before his eyes.

"Traitor!" he cursed under his breathe at the sight before him and then spat in the direction of the couple.

Though he heard it, Prince Alareik paid no heed to the curses of the small goblin to his side for he could only focus his attention to the figure before him. She fit perfectly into his concave chest, enveloped in his arms. He pulled his forehead from her and looked upon the long raven lashes that shadowed her dark eyes. Her lips were parted and she breathed slowly, they looked pale. He dragged his thumb across her lower lip and her eyes flew open. He wished to kiss the redness back into her lips, but pressing matters were still upon them.

"It is done?" he queried of her.

"Yes!" she replied.

Alareik released her and strode over to the small blue goblin. His blonde elf guards parted for him to stand before the goblin, though their bows did not relax their poised positions. Prince Alareik narrowed his eyes upon the peevish creature before him, and his mouth curled in a snarled dripping with disgust and distaste for such a lowly creature.  
>"Where is she? The other, the unclaimed one?"<p>

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><p>AN-This is a rather short chapter, so I do apologize. Please inform through PM or review if you note errors. I hope to have the next chapter up soon. ANY type of feedback would be greatly coveted on my part. Also, making minor changes to some of the previous chapters, but only for consistency sake and not enough to drive one back to re-reading them. Example, changing the height of Erlkin to more like 6" 4" inches instead of seven as previously stated. Small stuff like that! Thank you and enjoy! Reviews PLEASE!


	17. Chapter 17

The Painted Door

Chapter Seventeen

The drowsy silence which enveloped Odyna in sleep had been broken by the faint sounds of ruckus in the other sections of the castle. At first, Odyna just snuggled down further into the depths of the blankets and furs atop the large bed. She had wrapped herself into a cocoon of warmth as there had been no lights or fire after she had shut the door upon the old face of Dervish. Odyna had merely stripped off the cape and pulled out the twigs and moss from her hair so that she might sleep. In her dark path to the bed, she had let everything carelessly fall to the floor. She was so tired that at the first sounds of the raid she had just brushed them off as on-going merry-makers. Merry-makers that still did not wish to go to sleep and had no respect for those that did wish for it. But it did not matter for exhaustion settled on her like a thick fog. The small trek across the stone floor was cold on her feet and she had furiously rubbed at goose-bumped arms and legs once she got into the bed and under the covers. She had pulled all the curtains to the poster, hoping that it would keep the warmth contained. But as she laid her head to the pillow, her eyes quickly closed and her mind drifted to sleep. Hints of dreams and memories lingered around the edge of her consciousness like a slow rolling mist across a field. Just as she tried to catch it, it evaporated from her grasp. Her mind began to awaken from the intensity of the noises that sounded beyond her door, noises that advance and turned into calls and shouts of warning and alarm. Her eyes were so heavy that it took a great effort for her to get them open, despite the growing urgency of the noises. Heavy footsteps echoed past the door to Odyna's chamber. Some of them stopped and shook at her door but after discovering that it was locked from the inside, they moved on.

She felt as if she had only slept an hour and her body felt sore as she sat up in the bed. The covers were askew from where she must have tossed in the few hours of sleep. She pushed them aside from her lap and crawled upon her hands and knees to the lower edge of the bed, pulling back the heavy brocade bed curtain. It was a dark evergreen color to blot out any type of light from penetrating the blissful sleep of the person occupying the bed. It was so heavy that she had to use both hands to move it to create an opening to leave.

Just as she placed her feet upon the floor to stand up, the handle of the door violently shook. The first rays of the sun cast a dull sliver of light into the room from the two slit windows to her side and she traced their path to the black vortex that was the door.

"Hurry up!" she heard a raised voice speak. The voice was a familiar one from last night, but it was not that of the king. The jangling of keys sounded as someone fumbled trying to match the appropriate key to the lock. Finally, there was a click noise and the door was suddenly swinging wide open.

More light was cast into the room by the open door as Prince Alareik, Nightingale, and two of his guards flooded the room. She could see the small form of Beezum being shoved about by the base of his little blue neck, only partially in view from near the door, apparently the prisoner of another elf.

"Cast light goblin!" The prince yell from over his shoulder. A snap of Beezum's fingers and the candelabras flickered awake and the fireplace stirred to life after the night's slumber, the flames low as it needed several logs to fully awaken it. Odyna's inner child wished to climb back behind the poster and throw the curtains, hoping that the monsters were not real but such an effort was childish for she knew the only escape was through the chamber door and they all blocked the path.

She pushed herself to standing and tried to smooth down her hair, knowing that she must look like a half-skinned ram that had taken in too much wine. As she left the safety of the dark curtain to face those that entered the room, she could see her reflection in the corner mirror. Her hair was still partially coiled in the ram horns closer to the edges, turning in great spirals down to the side of her head. The coloring still remained in her hair but it had faded from the way it looked in the beginning. The kohl around her eyes was smeared and the black was no longer upon her lips. She looked as if a sprite had come to her in the night and ruffled her hair uncontrollably, hell bent on making her look just as hideous as some of the goblins of this kingdom.

Prince Alareik took in her specimen, undaunted and not even surprised. He gave a sly smile and nodded his head in her direction, acknowledging her.

"My apologies…Lark…right?... Little Lark?" He voice dripped with sarcasm when he said the name she had provided to him last night.

Nightingale was suddenly next to his side, taking in Odyna's person with a long sweeping look and then whispering to Alareik. Her hand encircled his upper arm and she lifted her lips toward his ear while her gaze remained upon Odyna. "Why would you need _HER_ my love?"

Alareik glanced her way quickly and then back to Odyna once more and stated none to quietly, "Leverage, of course." Prince Alareik's eyes flashed with a sinister glee, the soft blue looking more like ice than the sky; slippery and cold.

Alareik pulled free of Nightingales grasp and stepped forward toward Odyna. "I do apologize for such a rude awakening…dearest little Lark…however, your stay here is drawing to a close and we ride shortly for Amalfitare.

Odyna demurred, looking about the characters of the room, searching their faces for a more detailed explanation. But none seemed to want to give it. She craned her neck to look at Beezum, imploring with her eyes for answers to questions she didn't even know. Beezum cast his eyes down and shook his head.

"I do not understand what is going on, Prince Alareik, please explain to me. Has the king released me to your care? Are you to lead me back to my world? For surely my father and betrothed are anxious to have me return. I do not even know where this place IS! No one had told me anything and I would prefer to have some type of guidance before going anywhere with anyone."

"So lost! So innocent!" He said and he stepped closer to her, breathing in her scent of spring and honeysuckles. "That which is lost must be claimed, would you not agree? And since he did not lay claim upon you, then I shall."

"You cannot claim me!" She protested. "Truly, I may be "lost" but I am already claimed by another, my betrothed, Charles Thrope. And I must get back to him. To my father and to my home. I implore you."

Prince Alareik thrust his head back in laughter, the long straight blonde locks gently swayed with the movement, before he settled his icy blue stare back upon her. He shook his head slightly and smiled wide. "No, my dear."

"But…" She retorted, shaking her head. But their conversation was cut short and would not resume as the elf guard, Brumen, entered the room and approached the prince. Brumen was a tall elf and his blonde tresses possessed two braids that kept the hair from coming into his eyes. His tunic and trousers were dusted with dirt and scuff, as if he had been hunting or at war, but he demonstrated no sign of ill-being or injury. The slightest hint of smoke danced upon the air and tickled her nose.

He gave a curt bow, "Prince Alareik, the Erlkin has been secured."

Alareik clapped his hands together lightly and gave a snicker, his eyes glinting. "And now the real merriment shall begin!" He turned toward Odyna once again, looking upon her. Stalking her body with his eyes. The action made her skin crawl and she gave a shudder that was very evident. It only made his smile grow wider. Her instinct told her that this man, this elf prince, was not one to attempt defiance. She tried to focus her attention upon him, and not her own situation, but things were growing more confusing by the minute. Everyone seemed to know what was going on except her. Why should they not be comfortable in their own world, as it was she that was the stranger among them?

"You have ten minutes, my lady, to make yourself presentable. Nightingale, assist her in finding something descent to wear. Brumen, stand guard by the door and then bring them down to the garden." After issuing his orders, the prince concluded their conversation with great charm and even greater dispatch, bowing low toward the two ladies. He did not speak again nor look to them as he expected everyone to abide by his authority without question. Without a second glance he determinedly strode from the room heading for the interior garden, the two elf guards following closely in his wake. One of them gave Beezum a shove toward the doorway. The small goblin gave Odyna and Nightingale another look and then hung his head as if in defeat. Brumen stepped forward into the room just slightly and approached Nightingale.

"Ten minutes, "he warned with a stern look. "No longer." Leaving them he exited through the door, turning and shutting it behind him.

Nightingale thrust her chin in the air like a statue, solid and defiant, but then spoiled the posed by speaking. "Inside of a few minutes, you will need to make a decision as to whether you wish to remain as Erlkin's prisoner or flee with us." She did not wait for Odyna to provide a response before she quickly turned on her heel and walked over to the tall wardrobe, flinging open the doors to see if the goblin servants had provided her dresses. The interior of the cabinet smelled of wood and dust as it had not been used in quite some time, but there hung a variety of dresses in various shades of colors. She shifted through them until she found one that was the color of wine. It was a dark burgundy with silver trimming. The sleeves were long and tapered to a v at the ends. Down the back was lacing to make it tighter or loose, if necessary. The bodice was square cut and low to expose her neck and collar bone. It was embroidered with silver thread ivy leaves. She pulled it out of the closet and placed it against her body, walking to the mirror to see how it would look upon her pale skin. Nodding to herself in the mirror then began to strip of her red gown to replace it with the fresh one.

Glancing over to the still form of Odyna, she stuck her neck and face out a bit, raising her eyebrows. "Did you not hear? We have but minutes. You need to change and tame that mane of yours. I am no one's maid."

"What is Erlkin?" Odyna asked of the Nightingale.

Her eyes flew upward to Odyna's questioning face as the burgundy waves rippled to the floor. Nightingale bit her lip slightly, debating whether to answer Odyna. Instead, she approached Odyna and grabbed at her hand, pulling her to the wardrobe. Her hands flew like a hummingbird through the dresses until her hands settled upon a soft blue dress the color of robin's eggs. She pulled it out and held it up to Odyna. "Put this on, we haven't much time left. I will get the brush and try to tame that mass that you call hair."

"The goblin servants were the ones to put it into the horns."

Nightingale gave an indifferent huff from her chest, walking over to the side table near the bed. It held a water pitcher and basin atop of it. She quickly poured some water into the bowl and brought it over to the table. She picked up her dress form the night before and dipped an edge into the cool water. Handing it to Odyna, she motioned for her to wipe the kohl from her face, then she headed to the vanity to find a brush. A large wooden box residing in the middle of the vanity contained several brushes and combs with handles made of elk bone. She withdrew it from the box and stomped over to Odyna. Odyna had just finished placing the dress above her head and let it fall over her chest and hips, smoothing it down about her. It was blue and simple with a semi-circle neckline. The sleeves were long, tapered at the top and swelling out as it came to the opening of her wrist. It was lined with an intricately designed ribbon that had a patterns of gold and white flowers.

Nightingale pressed the brush into Odyna's hands and came behind her, pulling upon the laces to the back of the dress. She cinched the laces as tight as she could, causing Odyna to catch her breath at the constriction. Despite herself, she smiled at Odyna's discomfort.

"Sit!" Nightingale commanded, pointing to the chair.

"Will you not answer me, Nightingale?" Odyna spun around to confront the woman behind her. There was something in her childlike beauty and dark eyes that stopped her harsh tone. She turned about and sat down in the chair, stiffening her back in a rigid and angry stance.

Nightingale let out a sigh as she began to pull the brush quickly through Odyna's hair, uncurling the horns and freeing it of knots. "You do not know, but it is best if I tell you. Listen to my words well, Little Lark. Erlkin is the king! And from what I gather the prince does not know of your name, your REAL name. Hold it close to you and do not share it with anyone, as names have power! But more important than anything else you must never forget it."

"But…"Odyna began to question Nightingale, intent on getting answers to all of her questions about where she was, who every player was that she had encountered and how to get home. Her attempt was thwarted as Brumen opened the door and entered.

Odyna stood and turned to look at him, angered at his intrusion upon a conversation that might have actually produced results. She gave a slight stomp of her foot in frustration and Nightingale raised her brows toward her. She stepped closer to Odyna, pulling her long black hair from her back and over to her shoulder so that Odyna could tie her dress before Brumen escorted them from the chamber to the interior garden where Prince Alareik awaited.

"Do not forget, understand?" she hissed into Odyna's ear, as she gave her a nudge to follow Brumen.

Odyna could only give a weak nod, as nothing seemed to make sense.


	18. Chapter 18

The Painted Door

Chapter Eighteen

After all the splendor of the night prior, it was unimaginable to stand in the interior garden to a scene of torture. The Winter Solstice celebration full of merriment, dancing, food and drink, and beautiful elegance was now reduced to random spaces with forest animals riddled with arrows to the chest cavities. Only the night before they had been in human form celebrating and enjoying a freedom seldom offered to them in the Goblin King's realm and now they would no longer celebrate anything for their souls had been released to an eternal place. Odyna could only hope that they were in heaven as she whispered a fervent prayer for any animal or goblin, for that matter, that she saw as she was escorted to the garden. White elf guards had manned the perimeter of the garden entrances lest any of the present goblins and human creatures tried to leave.

She surveyed the garden that she had only barely enjoyed the night before. It was intricately designed, detail in every corner and every plant that bloomed during the winter months. She could not even think of another from home that could match the splendor and beauty that this garden held. The fountain alone, was as large as a house playing out the scene of some type of fable from this land. Water trickled in some places and danced into marble shells in others. The center of the fountain depicted four female forms representing the pillars of direction. Their arms spread out and upward as they held the rounded symbol of the labyrinth echoed throughout his castle. Minor areas of the fountain had handsome male and female forms leisurely sitting, exchanging and surrounded by the fruits of the earth. Interspersed were fish that rose from the water spouting and spewing streams from their mouths all into the large marble based that embraced their water gifts and shot them back skyward in mini geysers strategically placed around the statues. Every element an allegorical display of the Earth and its connection to its creatures and bounty. It should have been a sight to study and admire. The sounds of the water should have been soothing, but nothing was soothing about the garden this morning.

As Odyna was led further into the garden and finally set eyes upon the construction that was placed to the side of the large fountain, she was unable to tear her vision from it. She felt that her heart might stop. Things became a blur. The creatures, the death, the goblins, the elves, the foliage, the sounds of the morning, everything! It was all a blur until she found her body stopping on the white stones of a terrace and steps that led to the large fountain. Of course she would not be placed too close, but instead she was given a bird's eye view. She caught her breath and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, choking down a sob. A sudden wave of dizziness began to overtake her and she swayed. But Alareik was there and managed to catch her at her elbows, steadying her.

"Careful, my dear!" He said to her, as she squeezed her eyes shut, but her body would not let her stay that way. She stared into the bright green eyes with golden flecks. She nearly flew from her skin when Prince Alareik came to be next to her. She was not aware of her surroundings as everything had faded to a blur of shadows and white noise, as she could not tear her vision from the king, from Erlkin. She said his name in her mind. She was finally privy to his name as Nightingale had told her that she must know it and not reveal her name to him. That whole bit about names and power. Yet at this moment, she could care less about power if speaking his name would somehow gain him freedom. "Erlkin" she whispered, just barely audible. Though he continued to stare upon her, his eyes checked for a second as if he had heard her.

Erlkin's gaze was frigid and cold, but as Alareik drew closer to Odyna, they raged like dragon's fire; they were so scalding that she could imagine herself and Alareik being disintegrated into a cloud of ash particles or melting into two pools of hot liquid matter where they stood. Panic filled her, and she could not breathe as if the laces of the robin egg blue dress grew tighter and tighter with each inhale. Her chest heaved and a pain that felt like an ever-expanding balloon began to fill her chest. Her head reeled and she felt suddenly dizzy again, her body would not grant her the mercy to faint, but continued to permit her to bear witness to the events unfolding before her. She wished to turn and flee; to run far away and yet she could not move.

She could not free herself of the petrified green hardness of his eyes, no matter how much she tried to drive her gaze away. Alareik leaned closer and brushed his thumb and forefinger on the edge of her shoulder causing her to shudder in fear and disgust at his boldness. Her arms suddenly broke out in goose bumps and she felt like the hairs on her nape were standing straight. Her stomach lurched and threatened to heave at his touch. Her skin crawled where his hand had made contact, disconcerting enough to wrench her eyes away from Erlkin and into his own sky blue gaze. Someone so pale and white; so deceiving that one would only assume them to be only good and possess no evil or hate. And yet, here she was trapped in some strange world where there is no happily ever after. A twisted fairy adventure where one finds out that the princess is really a witch and the witch is really a princess. If this was a dream, she desperately wanted to wake from it.

Anxiety filled her and she tried to turn her face away, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She did not think she could bear witness to the brutality that would shortly commence but the Prince stepped behind her, capturing her wrists and driving her body back into his chest. He was as strong and sturdy as a large oak. His breath was hot as he hissed in her ear, causing her to shudder within his arms and sending tendrils of fear racing to touch every nerve of her being.

"He endures this punishment because of you!" He whispered into her ear and then gave a light kiss upon her cheek. It was too much for her to bare, her eyes stung and she caught a sob upon her lips. The tears began to flow freely now, almost to the point that she was unable to see. She pulled at her wrists but the prince's grasp only tightened. He noticed and entrapped them both in his left hand and used his right to grab the ball of her shoulder, pulling her into his chest and neck. He made a tsk tsk sound in her ear, "He should not have left you unclaimed my dearest Little Lark."

She could barely whisper a "no" as she turned her gaze upon Erlkin. His face was partially covered with grime and blood; some his own and much from others. They had chained his arms and stretched them out wide between two felled trees that were temporarily erected into posts. She could see where he still suffered from an arrow shot to his right thigh, a gash where an arrow, had grazed his arm and the arrow that still protruded from his shoulder, quill and all. It must have been excruciating to have the arm extended out so. Yet even with his strength fading and his open wounds, his countenance as a king did not dwindle. Even though his head felt like a thousand pounds, he continued to hold it high in a regal and commanding stance.

His subjects that had not been dispatched at the beginning of the raid had been gathered into the inner garden of the castle to watch as Prince Alareik issued judgment for their King. He would not back down in front of his subjects that were being forced to watch, just as he had forced them to be witness to Mugnut's punishment for bringing Odyna to the realm. The only difference was that his punishment was a perceived gift to his subjects and this demonstration now was an assertion of power only.

From the view at the center of the garden next to the main fountain, he could see the bodies of some of his subjects scattered about, many having died of arrow wounds. Those creatures that were not goblins, once they had been hit, had changed back into their animal form he had given them. He could see at least forty around that had fallen and many of them were males. At least the Elves had been merciful enough to spare the females. Some of the elves had begun to pile the dead so more subjects could fit to witness their king being lashed, not even bothering with a proper and respectful burial.

Above the wounds and the pain of the arrows, he could feel their loss. He felt the lack of their bond like an empty space in his being; an empty cavern. It was like a black void had ripped open his chest and continued to grow, consuming him. There was nothing and that was the problem because he could not feel his connection with them any longer. It shook him to the core and the hurt was far worse than the physical pain. He was growing fatigued and he knew he would be unable to manifest any magic to assist him. But this punishment that the Prince felt obligated to dole out as an example to his subjects and the Little Lark was just a show. For even the Prince knew that punishment was to be settled by the Elven council. Erlkin looked to the Little Lark and could see that she was crying now and Alareik held her within his grasp. Nightingale merely stood to his side, watching, tight-lipped. When Erlkin made eye contact with her she turned, jutting her chin out and quickly looking away.

He heard the shift of feet behind him. He could not look to see who it was but no doubt is was one of Alareik's elf guards. He wished to know what Alareik was whispering to Little Lark for she was shaking and he could see her mouth the word "no". He made contact with her eyes again and hers suddenly grew wide, for she could see the elf approaching from behind that he could only hear. He heard the elf snap the whip within his hands, indicating that the time grew near to doll punishment ordered by Alareik. Little Lark tried to close her eyes and turn her head as the elf advanced upon Erlkin's back, but Alareik seized her face in his hand and forced her to look onward.

"We'll have none of that my lady!" Alareik said to her, as he held Odyna's face captive. Then he gave the nod to Brumen and the loud crack of the whip sounded.

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><p>AN-Just an FYI to any readers that might have become confused and I totally apologize for that one. It seems that I had posted chapter two twice. I believe it was chapter 14 or 15, which is sad because that was a great chapter with confrontation between Nightingale and Erlkin. If you did not read it, then you SHOULD because it is important for the chapters afterward. So all chapters are fixed from 14-18. I took out the mid-section author notes because they threw off the chapters. I will try and use these instead so that all my documents and chapters line up to avoid future chapter mishaps. I thank you all for reading the story and if you have comments, suggestion, praise or criticism, please send me a message. Some of the questions I might not be able to answer as this story is pretty organic still and I am seeing how thing play just like you are! Enjoy!


	19. Chapter 19

The Painted Door

Chapter Nineteen

Erlkin felt a tapping on his chest. He ignored it. But it came again. Erlkin opened his eyes. The sun was bright and it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust. Looking down the length of his black-clad torso he could see the small form of a bird sitting upon him. It turned its streaky brown head back and forth, beady black eyes looking into his, it ruffled it soft dark-brown feathers at him and then tapped at him again. He did not move, but a smirk flashed crept into the corner of his mouth. He shut his green eyes again, nestling deeper into his crossed arms behind his head. He was leaning against soft moss that covered a log in a glen. He could hear as the water danced over rocks and sloshed over small waterfalls. It gurgled and cooed as it weaved a stream that about a mile from where he relaxed would crash over layers of hard limestone and sandstone in a hundred foot waterfall. He was nestled into a carved out valley with moss and vinery that dripped over the crests of the cliffs that created an alcove of seclusion and privacy. The sun was warm upon his face and the weight of his body felt unusually heavy. The rest felt nice and he could easily sleep once more as the sun warmed his face.

The bird hopped about once again, maneuvering onto the sling of Erlkin's quiver. The beak made contact with the dark leather, rapping once more.

He let his eye remain closed but sighed softly in his serenity. "Trouble me not."

The lark stopped and hopped up closer to his collarbone, then it fluttered its feathers quickly. Brushing his face with its wings and stirring the quiet air about him. It tickled the exposed pale skin where the black tunic had turned down.

"Sing, for it pleases me!" He requested as he opened on eye and cocked his brow.

But the bird remained silent. It merely jumped back upon his chest, tapping with its small beak once more and then jumped off to rest in the soft grass near him.

"If you will not sing for me, then why do you insist upon following me so? How long will you deny me your song?" He rolled to his side, his long hair falling passed his shoulder, dripping about like a black river. He peered down at the small bird with playful green eyes.

"Sing!" He implored once again, but the bird blatantly refused his request, turning its head from the green sap-like eyes as if to shake its head.

"Lark!" He spoke, his voice taking on a stronger tone.

But the lark merely ruffled its brown feathers, shaking them out and then began to prune them as if ignoring the Goblin King.

"You are so cruel to me, mynx, even after several years. Will you not yield to me?"

Erlkin thrust his arms back behind his head, rolling onto his back once more gazing through the tall pine trees to the cerulean blue sky. He could hear other song birds trilling about in the trees, the water as it bumped and knocked at the rocks, easing its way down stream and he watched as pollens flittered carelessly upon the air like magic powder.

He glanced over at the sitting lark. "Perhaps I can sway you," he said, raising himself to his elbows to stare down upon her again. Barely audible elfin words emitted from his lips as he took in her form. As suddenly as she was a bird, he lifted the enchantment from her and she human form once more. She stared down upon herself, taking her human form in, as if she had forgotten what it was like to be one. She wore a simple dress of pale green. She lifted the hem slightly and looked at her feet. They were bare and she wiggled her toes. A smile crept upon her face. She then stretched out her arms long and wide, arching back. Her hair dipped back into a large golden pool before rising once again in response to her head leveling its gaze upon Erlkin. A breeze picked up strands of her golden tresses, lifting them high like spider silk on the air. They floated passed her face and she suddenly remembered her hair. She gathered the long tresses around her shoulder, running her fingers through it, causing her to laugh with happiness. Her blue eye lit with sparks as she heard herself, the laughter tinkled like bells. Her hand swiftly went to her mouth and throat. It had been so long since her heard her voice. Though the feeling of the freedom was glorious, she glanced to him uncertain.

Erlkin sat back into the log and crossed his arms over his chest once more, casually rolling his head to her. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you not tempted now to grant me access to your song?"

Her mouth parted but she hesitated to speak, let alone sing.

"Shall I change you back?" he questioned with a look.

"No!" she quickly responded, surprised by her own sound.

"Go on then, sing and I shall listen." He leaned his head back again the log and shut his eyes, waiting for her voice to rise up in the glen. It took her several moments to build her courage to use her voice so she decided to hum at first. The hum was soft and light, lower at first and then higher as her confidence grew. She then began to sing, once again making the words up as she went. It was wonderful hear and feel her voice again. She smiled and began to braid her hair as she sung. She wove a chorus about the sky and the sunrise and the sunset. She created ballads about the seasons, rising to her feet to dance about in the grass.

Erlkin's eye flew open in alarm as she rose to stand, but he did not get up to chase after her. He kept his arms crossed about his chest, wearily watching as she lifted her skirts and skipped and twirled about, watching the dress spin out and settled. Smiles rose to her lips in mid-song and she shut her eyes in relish of the moment. She opened her arms and spun around once again, round and round and round till she grew dizzy and then collapsed upon the ground. She was panting, her chest heaving rapidly up and down as she tried to regain her balance, and yet she did not stop singing. But the song did change, as she began to sing about love and the longing in her heart.

Long lashes hid her soft blue gaze and then the slowly opened staring in his direction. Her ballad had taken on a melancholy refrain as she sang of her loneliness in the forest. The word caught his attention and he was to his feet in mere seconds. Before she could even rise to her barren feet, he was before her lifting her by her elbows. He raised his finger to her lips, silencing her song.

"Do not sing of sadness Lark. Have I not provided you with everything you could possibly need here?"

"No," she said sadly, shaking her head before him.

"What more could you need?"

She hesitated, her soft lips parted beneath his finger to speak and he pulled it slowly away. She cast her lashes down, a hint of color rising upon her cheeks.

"You." The whisper was so soft, it could have been the sound of a heartbeat.

He stared into her face and moved his hand up to cup her cheek. He remembered the day he found her years ago. How he had teased her mercilessly and how she had anxiously responded to his kiss with kisses of her own. He stared upon her lips, soft and sweet like pieces of fruit. He longed to taste them with his teeth, and test their firmness once again. Such boldness from her stirred his passion, inflaming him.

Caught by a sudden desire, he pulled her into him, both hands cupping her face. His powerful green eyes swirled viscously, laced with passion and want. She smelled of lavender and her lips tasted of honey as he hungrily claimed them. His hand reached up to lace into the hair at the base of her neck, tugging on it slightly, causing her to gasp beneath his mouth and granting him greater access to explore its recesses. He was engulfed in a desire that was more intense than he had anticipated. Her hands raised between them and she pulled and pushed him away at the same time. He caressed her hair and back with his hands until one settled on her hip and he bit his fingers into it fiercely, yanking her into his own hips. He felt her tremble in response to his touch and a whimper rose in her throat.

He broke free from her lips, and traced his finger down the silken splendor of her neck until it dipped into the hollow of her neck. Her skin was soft like velvet and he longed to caress all of it but he held himself back. She likewise let her hands push against his chest and upward over his shoulder. He winced slightly as her hand came across his left shoulder. Suddenly she leaned into him, her mouth edging up to his ear to whisper to him.

Her breath was soft and warm next to his ear. "You must awaken."

He heard her words but they did not connect with him. Her body was pressing harder into him and she was lacing her hand through his black hair, pushing it back and away from his ear as she repeated the words again.

"Erlkin, you must awaken."

He grabbed the Larks shoulders for this was not how he remembered their encounter and when he pulled the figure back before his face, his green eyes narrowed. Instantly his body went rigid as he embraced the figure of the woman from the masquerade ball, her eyes were pleading.

"Erlkin," she whispered.

Erlkin's eyes shot open instantly, fresh from the memories of the Lark and from HER face and voice, for he heard her call unto him. To his side, a deep and grateful sigh was expelled. Turning his head, he looked to see the small blue face of his head steward, Beezum. He was standing upon a small chair next to the massive bed that housed the still form of the Goblin King.

"Majesty! Thank goodness you have finally awakened." Beezum wiped anxious perspiration from his small temple and pushed the spectacles slightly upon his long pointed nose.

"How long have I been asleep?" Erlkin questioned.

"For nearly two weeks sire!"

* * *

><p>AN- So I do apologize for not sprinkling enough "romance" into the story since it is categorized as one, but I do promise that romance is coming and will be present between the characters, and especially our main of Erlkin and Odyna. This is a short snippet of romance, but I also want to reveal bits and pieces of how Lela grew close to Erlkin and gained his trust enough to betray him for Jackson. Another matter, even though I have linked this story with the Labrynth movie and I view it as an entirely different story altogether, I debate whether to turn it into a "crossover" or change the category to Lord of the Rings because it includes elves, though I do not believe they have just "elves" to select from in the character section. Or goblins/orcs for that matter since Tolkien used the word inter-changeably. Regardless, I would REALLY appreciate some feedback. If it would not be too tedious for some of you readers to just provide a snippet of something you like about the chapters or story line or even suggested changes, it is hard to stay motivated if you think no one likes it. Once again, thank you for taking time out of your day to read this chapter or any of the chapters. I welcome story line suggestions, character alterations, comments, follows, reviews, etc. Sincerely, S.


	20. Chapter 20

The Painted Door

Chapter 20

He was silent through the first four, not even a whimper fell from his lips nor did he flinch. By the eighth he was hissing through his teeth. But by the twelfth, a cry of agony finally escaped his mouth and his beautiful face screwed up in the pain, his eyes snapping shut as the whip traced another pathway along his luminously white skin. The elf monster, Brumen, that held dominion over him finally stopped at fifteen lashes after a wave of Prince Alareik's hand. Blood flowed down his back, beginning to pool by his feet and his arms had grown weary, sinking down, utterly exhausted; his head no longer capable of its regal poise. Alareik did not dare to over step too many boundaries as this was his own personal justice against Erlkin for Nightingale's imprisonment. The council would decide on his ultimate fate for the unclaimed human. Prince Alareik released Odyna and called upon another elf to fetch the horses, anxious to get to Amalfitare before nightfall.

"We shall see you in Amalfitare at the council." He casually walked by Erlkin, stopping before his sunken head, then proceeded to pull on a pair of riding gloves. Prince Alareik left him there, still chained to the makeshift flogging station as he and his elves mounted their horse and fled with Nightingale and Odyna in tow.

Odyna jolted awake, with a "no" cresting her lips. She had been asleep, dreaming about the events of the morning. It was still fresh and seared into her eyes so that she could vividly see it even if they were shut. As she was escorted to the horses, she was only able to render his name when they led her down the stairs and passed him. His long black hair hung before his face covering most of it and he flinched as it was released from her lips. The quiver of his flesh caused her to begin crying once more for she felt it was her fault this occurred to the dark king.

She could feel a hand about her waist and movement and they still easily rocked in the saddle, the strong black muscles of the horse rippling beneath them with each flex of its legs and hooves. Looking about she could see that they were still riding the horses. She sat before the elf that wielded the whip. His arm had her enclosed about her waist when she had fallen asleep to ensure that she did not fall from the body of his black horse. His arm still remained there but as she began to shift as she stirred awake, he removed it and grabbed for the reins again so that he might give his other hand a rest. She had been asleep for many hours and his right hand ached from holding the reins for so long. He flexed his fingers and hand several times to take the cramp away and then rested it at his thigh. He was quiet but spoke as she stirred next to him. "Soon, we approach Amalfitare."

They had wasted no time in their effort to leave for Amalfitare. They rode all day and till the sun began to set, through the woodland forest. Their elevation ascending upward toward the mountains and cliffs. After a time they turned for the coastline, the route narrowing as they grew closer to the craggy cliffs that overlooked a clear blue sea. The well-worn pathway broke free from the enclosure of the tall trees to reveal a peak that jutted out from the trees. It overlooked a massive drop, a craggy rock ledge providing a glimpse of cavernous mountains. Soft waves crashed upon the shore hundreds of feet below.

The path they were presently upon seemed so narrow at times that Odyna could not help but lean deeply into the center of Brumen's body, his arms and shoulders becoming a shield against the razor cliffs that were merely one wrong shift of the horse's feet away. If the horse spooked, they might be tossed down hundreds of feet below upon the jagged rocks that reached up like teeth with the waves lapping around like a hungry tongue slick with an anxious wetness to consume. Her knuckles were white from gripping the mane of his horse for her own measure of safety but the action did not faze the elf, as he was well accustom to the trek.

They slowed and then her eyes caught a glimmer of their destination. A breeze picked up at the open peak. It was cool and refreshing and not steeped with an overly salty tang. Words could hardly describe the beauty before Odyna and the setting of the sun only enhanced its enchantment. There was not a cloud in the sky to spoil the breathtaking view and it was only enriched by the setting sun's tones of deep crimsons, purples and pinks. The scenery was breathtaking as the sun continued to dip lower behind the horizon painting the sky and mountains in vibrant hues. It lit the kingdom of Amalfitare alight with halos of gold, orange and pink. It was a prosperous kingdom that thrived upon the coast of a vast sea. It was one of the primary intersections of commerce and culture between the different elven kingdoms. The kingdom even though constantly abuzz with activity, matched its rhythm with the ebb and flow of the sea.

Etched out before them, this vast kingdom could only be described as nestled into the curve of the mountain side. It was built vertically into the mountain with at least seven large defense towers sprawling skyward, as if their tips could pierce the heavens. The kingdom's reach dipped low till it touched the turquoise sea where the white foam seemed like the edging of a carpet entrance to a beautiful palace. A large beach spooned into the circular curve of the kingdom's edge and lead upward to an increasingly rocky coast.

Their party followed an upper road that wound down into the central part of the kingdom, but all the alleyways and roads eventually lead downward to the beach. Some were draped with vines and flowers, providing patches of shade from the sun, when out, and scenting one's journey with an intoxicating floral edge. A breeze rolled off the sea whose undertones were warm and mingled together with the rich perfume of greenery and flowers that traced pathways through the kingdom. With each gust, it warmed the soul and heightened the senses. It was ironic to Odyna that such a dark character that the Prince had demonstrated could originate from such a beautiful location.

They wound through the city, passing houses that stacked upon each other as they all seemed in a race to the top of the mountain side. There were a puzzling amount of stairs linking them all together up and down with allies, paths and terraces that interconnected. Most of the buildings were white and many where decorated with mosaic tiling and sprawling vegetation. The road opened up and turned to a cobblestone as they grew closer to the gates of the palace. It was the largest of all the buildings against the backdrop and it housed the only building with a dome-shaped roof.

-0-0-0-0-0

Odyna twisted her face, awaking to the coolness of soft white bed linens as they caressed her face. She smoothed her hand upon them and then pushed herself up. A magical breeze slid up and over her shoulders, softly wooing and caressing her, till she was lulled by its call to stir. It drifted into the room like a dancer, spinning and turning, anxious to rustled things to life as the day broke upon the horizon. It stroked at her face as she turned over from stomach and laid upon her back, staring up at the ceiling. She felt refreshed and not deprived of energy. She could feel the pull of the sun as it beckoned to her from the terrace. She rose from the bed to meet the satiation of its unspoken need. It had already begun to heat the stones, warming her toes as she cross the large space of the rooms. She lulled in the embrace of its rays. They showered and caressed her skin, embedding pricks of warmth into her skin that was more soothing than a bath. They kissed her face and drew long caresses upon her shoulders and arms, showering her in a glimmering specks. She lifted her long golden locks from the nape of her neck and back so the rays could trace lines upon her back through the sheer of her night shirt. The feeling was delicious and it had almost become a ritual in the weeks that she had been here.

Odyna had stayed for over a two weeks now and it was nearing the end of the third week. Odyna was officially a "guest" of Prince Alareik and that of his father and mother, King Ensirel and Queen Rhovanna, which was far more polite than calling her an "unclaimed" or "mortal human" or "intruder to the realm" as others had whispered under their breaths. As she had been presented before the royal court the following morning after their arrival, she came to learn that Prince Alareik was the eldest son of the king and queen. He had two other younger brothers, Aglaron and Calaeron and two sisters, Theril and Malrin. It did not help Odyna that all these elves, save the Queen and the youngest sister were tall, lithe and possessed the same long blonde luminous hair. When they stood together, it was difficult telling them apart save the dresses, unless the Princes were wearing robes, then she had no clue lest they speak.

The Queen's hair was auburn and so was that of Alareik's sister Malrin. Though Odyna could only speculate on their ages, the youngest one had features that looked younger than her own, but she could not be certain about anything in this strange world. Rather than insult, Odyna tried to remain as silent as possible with anyone. It was not difficult for the elves were very weary of her presence and she spent most of her time in the room she was provided with the large vista terrace that overlooked the sea. The room was so spacious that it possessed a bed, vanity, a writing desk and chair, and a wardrobe. There was a second connecting room with a table and chairs, a settee and a large bathtub that looked to be made of a giant nautilus shell that had been cut and leveled off, the edging ground down to a smooth surface and edged with gold. It rested in a gold-plated holder with balled feet of some type of bird. Every night a slew of house servants came to fill the tub with steaming hot water and she was able to bath and watch the sun as it set over the water from the open terrace. She did not fear that anyone would jump down onto the terrace from above as the castle seemed to flow with precision and _. She enjoyed the terrace the most for it was private enough and she could step out and just contemplate the view. Even though the kingdom was abuzz with activity

She had learned over her short stay that the domed building was where the Elven council would meet. After they arrived, they sent riders to the other kingdoms to call for the high council to send representative within a week's time. They also sent a rider to the Goblin King's kingdom, but he had been turned away and not accepted at all.

Odyna let her hair fall and cascade down her back once more as she turned away from the terrace and then sun, strolling back into the room, hearing the door to her chamber open. In shuffled an elf servant with flowing brown hair that had intricate braiding applied to it. She wore a long brown skirt that hovered above her heels. At her torso was a darker brown sleeveless vest and leather corset that she wore over a cream colored undershirt that were laced on her upper arms and then spilled out wide and long, to the point that the sleeves trailed the floor after her.

Her name was Ialwen and she had been assigned to Odyna for the time she would reside there under the Prince's "protection". Currently, she fluttered about quickly in the room carrying a tray with food and drink to break the night's fast. There was a twinge of anxiety etched upon her countenance, marring her pale elfish features. She set the tray upon the table with haste.

"My lady, you must eat and then we must dress you with haste." Ialwen said, pouring out water from the pitcher into a silver goblet for her.

Odyna look at the flustered servant and gave a small sigh as she wished she could maintain the serenity with which she awoke and avoid anything that would increase the anxiety of her situation.

"He has arrived!" she whispered, as if fearful to even mention his presence.

"He? He who?" Odyna said as she took a sip of the water and stole at a piece of warm bread upon the tray.

Ialwen's pales hands slowed and even trembled while she smoothed out the dress upon the length of the bed. Her tone lowered to a guarded and barely audible whispered.

"The Great Goblin King!" She shuddered as the name escaped her lips, and she thought of all the stories that she had heard told of him since she was a young elf. He was the subject of scary stories exchanged across camp fires and used to straighten out the behavior of wild elflings. Many of the elves of Amalfitare regarded the great king with fear.

"Erlkin," she whispered low enough for Ialwen not to hear. Shock tore the strength from Odyna's legs, she grasped the edge of the chair quickly to steady herself and then sank into its mahogany-colored scrollwork. The "Great Goblin King" had finally arrived at the kingdom. Was it any surprise that he would come? She was curious and afraid at the same time. Fear blossomed in her chest, but it was interlaced with heat. A heat and blush that she remembered when they had conversed. A quickness of breath when his hand touched her own and when he stared at her with pulsating green eyes, her heart raced. The look of rage in his eyes when she stood and watched Brumen lash upon his open back. She could see him in her mind's eye and choked back a cry. The servant heard Odyna from the side of the bed, and headed to her, grabbing her soft hands in her own cool pales ones.

"They say, that he come to claim you, my lady!" she whispered fearfully. She gave Odyna's hands a brief squeeze of comfort. She was sad at the news she shared, but equally grateful that she was not the object that the Goblin King coveted.

Odyna suddenly lost her appetite as she pushed the tray away from her before her chair. Her eyes glazed over slightly. Inwardly she was panicked but excited. She was fearful too. Prince Alareik had said it was her fault that he had been whipped. How could she face him or convince him that she played no part in Alareik's decision to hurt him. So many thoughts were racing through her mind that she did not hear Ialwen speaking to her. The young elf maid crouched before the glazed eyes of Odyna, shaking her.

My lady….my lady….Little Lark." Finally Odyna, broke free and focused her eyes upon the servant. "Your dress my lady. I need you to stand and put it on right now or I will not get you to the council in time.

"Must I go?"

"Of course my lady! You must attend, it is the only way you can defend yourself against his claim for you."

"I do not wish to be claimed by anyone!" Odyna raised her voice to a yell and then stood defiantly, swinging around from the chair, heading to the bed. "I wish to go home!" She furiously ripped off the night shift to put the dress on that Ialwen had laid upon the bed for her. She smoothed her hands over the fabric and took in its pattern and color. She shook her head and then picked it up from the bed and threw it to the floor.

"This will not do!" she shouted at Ialwen. "I need a dress that will really make a statement. If I must defend myself then I want a dress that will defend me against everyone. Can you help me make this happen?"

She turned to the elf servant, her hair cascading down her front, her only cover against her nakedness. "Please tell me you have other clothing that I could use?"

"I….I…will see if I can't find something." Odyna had never raised her voice to her before. Ialwen raised her palm to her mouth in concern. Then she rushed over to Odyna and clasped her hand. The poor dear must be in a rage due to fear. She nodded her head, determinedly. "I will see if we can't find something or a combination of things that will work. But in the meantime I will send in another servant to brush and do your hair. Please eat something too, lest an empty stomach make you faint upon his sight." Her eyes and face grimaced in fear of the idea of the king. Then she turned and left the room.

Odyna turned to the full length mirror in the room. Standing before it, she looked a bit more ashen in the face. She quickly pinched at her cheeks in an effort to raise their color. She was tired of feeling like she had no control of her destiny here. She was tired of being dragged here and there with no say in the matter. She was tired of being asked if she was "lost". She was tired that no one seemed to want to give her answers. "Ugh!" She stomped about. She wished that she could throw something. She kicked at the dress upon the floor.

She picked up the brush upon the vanity and ran it through her hair several times. This act angered her as well and she threw it across the room just at another servant entered. It whizzed by her face and she turned surprised at the young maiden that was standing naked before her.

* * *

><p>AN- If you have been wondering on how to pronounce the name of the Prince's kingdom, I hope this helps. Amalfitare-A-mal-fi-tare. Once again, comments would be greatly appreciated.


	21. Chapter 21

The Painted Door

Chapter Twenty One

The defiance and anger that spewed from her was beginning to temper and turn to apprehension as the looming doors to the domed building housing the council came into view. The building had at least five entrances on the ground level. The second floor had open walkways with arches that looked out onto the street level and reminded her of images that she had seen of the ancient Greek coliseums from home. Home! It almost sounded foreign on her lips to say the word, even though she had not been here long. It had felt like she had been gone from the earthly realm, as they called it, for years. She was uncertain how long in her time she had been gone. What if it had been years, decades or centuries? Charles and her father must be out of their minds with worry for her. What if they were no longer there? What if so much time had passed that they had grown old and died. What if Charles had abandoned hope of ever finding her and fallen in love with another!

Odyna didn't know if she should cry or rage. Maybe both! The small embers of anger in her heart fluttered to life with the interjection of the thoughts, like oxygen to a fire….it began to burn brighter. Did defiance live within her heart? Could it live within her heart long enough to fight for herself? It was not a Victorian trait and one that she had not been raised to embrace. It defied the logic of her era even though woman were embracing additional privileges in her world but to be a wanton and too bold was to be shunned upon. And yet, she needed boldness and insolence at this moment. She needed to brandish a sword of strength to combat these foes and fight for her claim upon her own life. To fight for the opportunity to return home

…home to what?

To only embrace the same type of paternal and husbandry dictatorship there? They would govern her there as well. She shook the thoughts from her mind. She needed to be fierce, bold, and strong. She needed resolve and determination and not fear. She swallowed the lump that was nestled in her throat.

The doors loomed before her. They were all shut and had been shut for at least twenty minutes because she had caused her own tardiness with the demands of obtaining a different outfit. But she felt it was worth it, for she and Ialwen had managed to patchwork several items that provided her with her own fierceness. If she had been from a realm of the faerie, it would have been from one of fire and ice.

She wore a white sleeveless velour dress with a dangerously low bodice and exquisite black scrolling embroidery that twisted and turning in patterns that could have been compounding fleur-de-lis motifs stacked upon each other tracing over a central panel and then mimicking past two high slits that were cut so high one could almost see the top of her thighs. The beauty in the high cut was revealed by her movements for underneath was blood crimson underskirt. Each tier edged with a ribbon in gold. The white flashed red with every step. Spilled blood on freshly fallen snow. Innocence and passion intertwined in the form of a beautiful woman. It was like the cry of a siren upon a rock, luring and mesmerizing and which could only lead to ecstasy or death.

But death was more than personified from the wickedly designed dress, for Ialwen had a masquerade dress worn by one of the royals many decades ago and they managed to remove the shoulder pads in the design of two black dragons and a beautiful crimson coat of red silk satin. Before placing the perching dragons, Odyna threaded her arms through the regal coat. The collar rode high toward her face and fell to the neck line in the back, creating a beautiful contrast to her pale features. The fashionable coat was almost like a mushroom of sorts because it flowed downward in a cascade only to be cinched and tucked underneath itself, creating a shallow puff, then furiously falling long to the swish upon the floor.

Lastly, they placed the flack dragon should pads, much like a bolero that stretched and connected across her shoulders, where both dragons jutted out perilously past, mouths agape and fashion from a thin stiffened material. They rested there easily on her shoulders and were secured down her red coated arms by evenly spaced black straps. Each separation between the straps provided a space for the coat arm to puff just slightly, creating an illusion of the dragons breathing red fire down her arms.

Ialwen gave her a squeeze on her arm with a look of sympathy. "I am not permitted to enter the ground floor, my lady. I must view from the upper floor like others in my station but I shall hold open the door for you. Remain strong!"

Odyna gave her a look of understanding but did not move closer toward the tall dark wooden double doors. She wanted to flee from them. She wanted the security of her room and the open terrace. She wanted anything but to be under the scrutiny of any of their eyes. Though she may have looked like a fierce personification of a black dragon, she felt more like a mallard duck entering a pond of painted swans. And despite their beauty, she knew how vicious in nature swans could truly be. Ialwen cleared her throat a bit and grabbed the handle of the door, giving her a nudge with her eyes.

Odyna stiffened her resolve. At home, it would be the same. She was sure there would be opportunities where she would need to be poised and stately, ever the elegant and undeterred socialite. Lord knew there were plenty of aristocratic, pompous, snobbish and pig-headed socialites that she had to contend with there. It would be no different here except for the fact that they all had long blonde hair and pointed ears. She stiffened her back, rolled her shoulders and put on an air of perfect control. Before her courage faltered, she motioned for Ialwen to open the door and she forced herself to enter.

In order to avoid breaking her near perfect regal poise, she did not look about her surroundings of the immense council space, but walked straight passed the outer corridor and into the inner council chambers. They took up the entirety of the space. The upper floor was overflowing and thick with elves from the kingdom all intent with seeing the Great Goblin King, for he rarely left his realm and was a sensation equated to scary stories and legends. Legends of children that he kidnapped, people lost in his labyrinth for years or turn into statues as ever reminders of those that failed to successfully navigate its turns. The elves had conceived uncountable stories and fables of the Goblin King, all with the intent to elicit order, conformity and fear. They looked on wavering about the upper floor with a respiration like a calm rolling sea but her sudden presence disturbed the room like a stone being cast into a still pond.

The voices that had been speaking suddenly became hushed and withdrew to the slightest of hushed whispers. As she stepped further into the council room, a collective gasp could be heard at her sight for she could have been mistaken for a lost Elven Queen that had been summoned from afar. She did not cower as the crowd grew still, but lifted her head even higher in regal resolve. All eyes seemed to fall upon hers, except the form in black that stood further away from her and in the middle of the entire open circle of the chamber; for he stood alone.

Prince Alareik and his father were seated in a semi-circle of high backed chairs that mimicked golden thrones. There were thirteen other elves that sat in chairs that lined the semi-circle, all representatives of the other kingdoms of the fae. To the left of the thirteen representatives from Odyna's perspective, sat the family members of Prince Alareik, as if in their own stadium box of dark wooden chairs. Nightingale sat amongst them as well and she had her eyes cast upon Odyna. The queen motioned a servant to fetch Odyna, before she could step too fully into the proceedings and cause a disruption, but it was too late. By the time the servant was ushering her to a separate box, one that she would occupy alone, more eyes were looking upon her.

_He_ was dressed from head to toe in black once more and he held his hands clasped behind his back, rigid in his stance but still with an air of regal boredom. Gone were the long robes of silver and pale green, only to be replaced by a midnight black. The black of his jacquard cape was that of ominous caverns and nightmares. It was richly decorated with embroidery work of the finest detail in gold, depicting deer with large racks and wild cougars that stood confronting each other around the long cape that was higher in the front and tapered down in the back till it hit his calves. It had a high collar that folded over itself and an upper shoulder covering creating two layers. His trousers were a plain black and his boots too mimicked the rest of the night he brought to this kingdom of light and flowers. She wondered if his mood was just a black as his attire. His long black hair draped to the back and the front by his ears and he wore a large black crown on his head that glittered with moonstones.

She sat rigid like a ramrod, sinking into the green velvet tufted chair. There was a small table next to her in dark mahogany with leaf carvings and gold leaf. It housed a pitcher and a wine glass upon it, already poured by the attendant that directed her. She longed to down the entire glass to give her courage to face him, but instead she merely took a sip. Despite the long hush of the revealers from the gallery above, the royals seated next to her and the on looking representatives that all took a chance to stare at her, he did not turn.

She was almost perturbed that he did not grant her audience and a gawking stare as the others had. Though, if he knew it was her, and he was still furious that she was the cause of his misery not three weeks ago, then she sympathized with why he refused to set eyes upon her. Why give the creator of one's torture the satisfaction of attention? She sighed softly to herself as the hum of the gallery resumed to a normal buzz and the council proceeded.

"As I was saying," Prince Alareik glared at Odyna before he stood from his golden chair and half-turned to speak at the representatives. "The Goblin King knowingly broke the rules of the realms by harboring an unclaimed human in his castle when it is understood and practiced that humans must be claimed and turned upon their discovery in order to safeguard the realms. If they are not changed, then they must be returned or navigate the labyrinth to freedom. By my accounts, which I previously informed you, the Goblin King had the unclaimed one participating in his Winter Solstice and Nightingale can clearly attest to the fact that he did not intend to turn her."

One representative from a kingdom to the West spoke up, "And yet, this Nightingale that acts as your witness is now mortal as well, is she not?"

"Aye, but she has long been a prisoner to the Goblin King and he released her of her enchantment. Though she is mortal now she still represents one touched by magic and Amalfitare intends to embrace her into our own and lay claim upon her. She had not been changed in order to justify punishment for the Goblin King, likewise for the unclaimed one."

King Enrisel spoke as he stood, motioning with his hand for Prince Alareik to sit. "It would not be just to lay claim upon her until the council had rendered a decision regarding the accusations against the Goblin King."

Another representative of the council rose from her seat. Though she looked exceedingly youthful, she was one of the oldest in attendance. She could have represented sunlight for her skin was the palest of whites with a bluish aura and her hair was a soft flowing yellow beneath the headdress she wore. She smiled serenely to all in the council chamber before she spoke, indicating a sign of respect amongst them, but the corner of her mouth turned upward slightly when her gaze finally rested upon the silent Erlkin. "We speak as if the king is not in attendance. We speak as if the hammer of justice has been delivered. King of the Woodland and Guardian of the Labyrinth, do you not wish to speak upon your behalf?"

The room became silent, lying in wait for the Goblin King to speak. His laugh was low and his green eyes flashed with mockery for the council. He swept with a low bow before them, "I come to claim what is rightfully mine and to seek retribution against Prince Alareik."

"Retribution? For what?" King Enrisel demanded, leaning forward from his chair to stare upon the Goblin King.

"Why for your eldests' rash decision making regarding the lust for what I rightfully mine! And though the fruit may be succulent and sweet, it comes at a price!" He turned his glare upon the form of Nightingale and she cowered in her chair.

"That is ridiculous!" Prince Alareik shot up from his chair.

"Is it?" Erlkin queried raising his dark eyebrow in the direction of the Prince.

Enrisel spoke once more, "What are you accusing my son of?"

"The Nightingale is mine! She still belongs to me, for I did not sever our bond together." He said viciously leaning in the direction of the Prince. "As for the other…I do not lay claim against her and stand guilty as charged for I will not embrace an enemy of my realm!" He swung around with darkened and hard green eyes upon Odyna. But as his eyes fell upon her, they widened, before a guarded shadow narrowed them, his aloofness a shield against her allure.

Odyna sank back into her seat with relief and fear. Relief that she would not have to defend herself from him. Relief that he did not appear broken before her from the abuse of the prince. But not fear crept along her skin sending shivers for she was now marked as an enemy to him. The hate had swirled in his eyes like a torrent. It stole her breath and raised her pulse. She did not know whom to fear more, the prince with his cold mouth, dark eyes and questionable motives or the Goblin King with is hateful green eyes and quiet aloofness.

He turned away from her and railed against the Prince with his words, pointing an accusing finger at him but directing his speech toward King Enrisel. "Your son," he spat, "raised my castle with flames during a Winter Solstice. A time of peace and celebration, killing nearly forty of my subjects all in an effort to steal what is mine. I demand retribution for his deeds against me. I have come to take the Nightingale back, that which your son holds precious." He snarled and gave her a look of victory.

"She came of her own accord, her bond to you is broken." The prince shouted from his seat.

"Is it?" He laughed. He turned to her and lifted his hand out to her. "Come to me Nightingale."

Even though she resisted in her mind, her body hesitating slightly, she could feel the pull toward him. She closed her eyes as tears began to pool in them, her body involuntarily rose from the dark chair. She looked to the prince with saddened eyes the entire time as she thread her way from the royals box, passed Odyna and out to the center of the council chamber where Erlkin stood.

She finally rested before him and she cast her stare away from both the prince and Erlkin, focusing shamefully on the floor for her inability to avoid the call of the Goblin king.

Erlkin relished in his control and for an extra twist of the knife in Prince Alareik's gut he leaned down, staring upon her.

"Look to me!"

A tear streaked down her cheek but she could not refuse him as she raised her eyes to his. His eyes crinkled evilly and a sneer drew upon his lips as he cast a stare upon the prince.

"Please," her whisper was so low that only Erlkin could hear it.

""Must you suck the wonder from the extraordinary of this moment like a succubus? Silence," he hissed as he leaned into her ear, roughly grabbing her by the scruff of her hair and neck.

He shoved her out in front of him, his finger laced in the black mass of her hair causing her chin to raise as she was displayed before the council, a demonstration of his claim and power over her. She gave a small cry at the shove.

Prince Alareik was furious at her treatment and shot up from his chair, balling his fists and slamming them against the railing.

Erlkin let a laugh ring out among the council as he suddenly brandished his dagger. He pulled Nightingale back into his chest, the dagger came to rest at the apex of her chest rising and falling at the quickness of her breath.

"Now that we are clear on what is rightfully mine. I demand retribution for the Prince's actions. And since it would be unjust to not provide proof, I present my witness…" Erlkin let go of Nightingale's shoulder and snapped his finger. A swirl of black smoke brought forth the small blue form of Beezum.

"Speak!" Erlkin ordered the small goblin. The small blue goblin stepped forward and opened the ochre colored leather bound ledger within his large knobby knuckled hands. His pointer finger traced down the page and then stopped. He glanced up just briefly to the council and gave a curt nod. Then his voice rose as he listed off the name of each creature that had been killed by the prince's guard and what had caused their death. After he finished, he closed the book and stepped back.

"We all know the tendencies of Goblins, they list everything and they are bound not to lie."

"What is it that you demand as retribution?" Enrisel questioned of the Goblin King.

As if dealing with children, he clasped his arms behind his back, dagger still cradled in his grip and then paced back and forth as if to give the question consideration. His face traced the tiled floor and his black hair hung down, obscuring his features. He paced for several minutes, building the tension within the room. It festered and grew till is was soupy thick, and full of anxiety and heat. He stopped just as Prince Alareik stood to his feet in a rage.

Looking up into the eyes of the council members and then suddenly settling on King Enrisel, he raised his voice and pointed his arm toward the royal box. "Your youngest daughter will run my labyrinth!"

Gasps could be heard from the collection of elves in the gallery. King Enrisel flew up from his seat, his hands instantly upon the railing. The youngest princess had also risen, her soft brown eyes were wide with fear against her pale face and auburn hair. Prince Alareik was instantly to his father next screaming at the Goblin King, "You cannot force such a request!"

King Enrisel turned upon his eldest and shoved him back. "Silence! For I should banish you, for your actions brought this upon us."

"I defended myself against him!" The prince stated in protest. "He was being resistant!"

Erlkin gave a snort, sheathing his dagger at his calf. He then pulled the cord to his cape and it fell to the floor in a soft pile, barely stirring the air. He winced only slightly as he yanked the black tunic from over his shoulders to bare his back to the council. He could hear the gasps of the elf crowds from the gallery at the lash marks that were still alive and red upon his back and shoulders. Many had covered their mouths and turned away, Odyna among them for she felt it was her fault as much at the prince's.

"Your son felt justified to go beyond the council and deliver his own punishment." Erlkin said as he covered himself again with the dark fabric, leaning over to pick up the cape and replace it.

"I did that for Nightingale you bastard!" The prince hissed.

"You waged war against me for lust and now I demand retribution and I will have it, regardless of the council's punishment for the unclaimed one. If I do not, I will lay waste to your kingdom for you all know the capacity of my power, more ancient than all of you here. I was here at the beginning of the realms and shall remain for all of time and do you not remember?" With a flick of his wrist, black misty images of fierce looking goblins emerged from the floor. These were not goblins like any that Odyna had seen at the palace, but goblins that were twice and three times the size with blackish skin, clad in metal armor with grotesque faces and fangs.

"Enough!" The youthful representative said in a calm and undeterred manner, raising her small hand. "The ancient powers you wield were contained for a reason _Erlkin. T_hat you even speak of using it treads on high treason."

Prince Alareik's voice broke between them as he shook a fist toward Erlkin. "We all know that Erlkin detests anything that represents authority. He loves his animal creatures more than the Elvenkind, as he surrounds himself with not but them. Let him commit high treason and eliminate him."

"Lest you forget the creation…" Erlkin hissed to her under his breath.

She narrowed her eyes, unshaken by the reminder of the Goblin King. "Enough...justice will be reached! The council will discuss both matters and deliver a fair and just decision." She rose from her chair, motioning for the rest of the representatives to stand and follow her. But she stopped and turned her attention to King Enrisel. "You must remain behind for you are too involved at this point to not pass judgment without being objective."

The king snapped his open mouth and shut with a series of clicks before sitting down in his chair once more. He glanced over to the regal box that held his youngest daughter. She was sitting in a chair, crying into her hands as her mother and sister hovered about her, trying to issue comfort. She would not fare well in the Goblin King's labyrinth but most likely meet her demise. He turned to his eldest as he paced wildly back and forth behind the golden chairs, casting a deadly stare at the Goblin king. He paced like a large cat that was desperate and trapped. He grabbed at his son's arm, fiercely gripping into it. "What have you done?"

Prince Alareik stopped, "I did it because I love her."

"Do you love her more than you sister? For she is the one that now must suffer from your actions."

"You don't know that the council will agree to the Goblin Kings demands."

"For your gross ignorance, he will get something unless…"

"Unless what?"

"It is none of your concern now! Be gone from my sight, I cannot bare to look upon you till the council reaches a decision."

Once again, Odyna had turned into merely a watcher. She sat in her box, the wine had been consumed in one gulp when the Goblin King had taken the floor to speak his demands. She had braced herself to stand and defend herself, mentally reciting pithy words of courage and defiance. But as the scene was unfolding around her, she was not a player in this act save for the understanding that the Goblin King did not wish to claim her. Now she was unwanted by him and, no doubt, unwanted by the kingdom of Amalfitare. She looked at the angry prince as he paced about near his father. His eyes stalked the form of the Goblin King as he idly stood, waiting for the council. His glance would change and rest on Nightingale and soften slightly, then suddenly harden and go back to the man in black, clenching his fists and pursing his lips in barely contained rage.

Odyna's eyes flittered over to the black clad form. His name rose upon her lips in a soft whisper and escaped before she could hold it captive on her tongue. "Erlkin."

Almost instantly he turned upon her, staring menacing at her, it was as if he had heard her call from all the way across the room. He gave a snide turn of his mouth and crossed him arms, locking eyes with her own. She wanted to remove her stare from him, yank it from those green pools of molten lava and look to something else but she couldn't. She could hear the soft sobbing of the Prince's sister, Malrin, whom might be damned to run the labyrinth of this king that stood across the room at her and even those sounds could not rip her eyes from his.

Odyna stood in her own box and stepped near the railing, placing her hands upon the cool wood. It was what separated her from stepping onto the tiled floor of the round council chambers and crossing over to him. Her lips parted and she whispered softly, "I'm sorry!" To which he merely turned his back upon her and whispered something down to Beezum. Beezum looked over to Odyna, pushing his spectacles further up on the ridge of his nose, giving a nod.

It did not take too long for the council to come back, reaching a decision. They all seated themselves upon their golden chairs. Each member representative stand tall, regal and with authority. The one that looked like sunshine stood. She raised her hands to quiet the masses that sat above in the gallery. It grew eerily quiet as everyone waited on hush anticipation.

"A decision had been reached."

Everyone turned to look upon her beautiful and soft face as she spoke. "In retribution to the wrongs that Prince Alareik inflicted upon the Goblin King and his kingdom and for stealing his property, the Prince must decide if he wishes to return Nightingale to him or have Princess Marlin endure the labyrinth, but not the both."

Both Nightingale and Princess Malrin began to cry. Nightingale's knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor of the council room, but the sun colored elf did not stop talking.

The assembly grew quiet as they waited for Prince Alareik to reach a decision. Prince Alareik looked from his sister to Nightingale and back again. As he let his eyes trail over further, he could see that Erlkin flashed him a look of triumph. His arms crossed over his chest for either choice was a win for himself. Prince Alareik grit his teeth and balled his fists, his chest heaving with rage. His head then sunk with shame as he indicated Nightingale with a wave of his hand in her direction. Erlkin began to laugh loudly, uncrossing his hands and reaching down for Nightingale. She shrank within his grasp, struggling to free herself from him, trying to press against his chest. Just to spite the prince further, Erlkin grabbed Nightingale's face and kissed her deeply, until she was so breathless that she beat fiercely on his chest with her hands. As he lifted his lips from hers, he glared at the Prince and then threw her down toward the floor.

"She has been contaminated. I do not want her!"

The prince was so furious that he jumped over the railing and down to where Erlkin stood and rushed at him. But guards were quickly after, pulling him back and away from the Goblin King. Erlkin merely resumed his regal stance with his arms crossed about his chest, staring down his nose upon the detained prince.

"On second thought, I think I just might keep her!"

Their fight was interrupted as a loud sound rang throughout the council building. The speaking representative, quieted down the crowds again by raising her hands. "We are not finished here for there is the second issue regarding the unclaimed human and the violation of the rules of the realm."

Prince Alareik struggled to free himself from the guards, yanking his arms free and settling his clothing. The guards let him go, but still remained close to him. The Goblin King's countenance was unnerved as he turned to hear their decision.

"In punishment for failing to claim the mortal human, the council has decided that the Goblin King shall be bound to her."

Erlkin's eyes flew wide with shock as he turned to look at Odyna. Her eyes were instantly upon his own and her mouth was already opening in protest. Almost in unison, they both spoke at the same time.

"I refuse!"

"Never!"


	22. Chapter 22

The Painted Door

Chapter Twenty Two

Odyna rose to her feet and found her voice, her eyes bordered on reckless passion. "I will not be bound to him or any other, do you hear me?! None of you have a claim upon me or my life. I don't care where I may be. You have no right to try and dictate my fate without my personal choice in the matter. Though you may think you have power, none of you have ANY power over me regarding whom I choose to marry!

The words flew from her lips in an impassioned rage of independence and as the last tumbled forth, a sizable ripple lightly shook the building. So far, Odyna had played along with the slights of this world. She let herself be dragged along by that water goblin. She let herself be wooed and entertained by the goblin King. Lastly, she let herself be dragged about by the Prince. But at this moment, she finally had had enough and was willing to take a stand against them all and her words were powerful. The entire building felt as the ripple shook at the foundation. It was not the equivalent of an earthquake by any means, but was enough of a rumble to cause the elves to sway and grab for balance. Others in the gallery could have equated it to the flow of the elves, entering and exiting due to the large crowds, but those in know of the ancient powers regarding the rules of the realm had all felt it. And it was especially noticeable to the representatives in attendance to the council. The members, shocked in their seats from the wave swapped glances at one another in agreement. The head representative, whose countenance finally demonstrated a crack in the cool resolve stared questioningly at Erlkin, as if to impart his culpability at the event just occurred. Her gaze stole from his face and landed upon Odyna's whom she had paid no attention to during the entire meeting.

"There is no choice in the matter!" The sunshine looking elf said with a wave of her hand. "It has been decided and will be carried out now before this council."

Erlkin skewered each of the councilmembers with a piercing stare, making sure to lock eyes with each of them so they were aware of his displeasure, finally settling them on the speaking member. She looked down upon his dark features, flushed with anger and spoke quietly to him. "The realms gain more through one year of peace than through years of war, Woodland King. After a year and a day, you may release her and all will be as it was."

Though Erlkin was beginning to accept the temporary punishment, Odyna would have none of it. Without a hint of propriety and manners, she poured herself another glass of wine and drank of it deeply, took a breath and then finished off the glass. She needed all the courage she could muster for she had had enough. She stood from her chair and began to walk out of the council building. She was determined that she would not be a part of this. They could not tell her what to do and if it was up to her, she was not going to proceed without a fight. She briskly thread her way passed two elf attendants and headed straight for a door. All she needed to do was get passed the two guards that had taken up post near them and she would make a run for it. She didn't know where she could go, but she would run till her legs could no longer support her. There had to be some way out of this realm if she had found a way in. Then it hit her; that creature! The water goblin, Mugnut. If she could just find out what happened to him then she would be able to convince him to take her back the way she entered the kingdom, via his stream. Odyna's mind was tripping over various plans and plots of escape, so consumed within her visions of escape that she was unaware of someone behind her.

A hand bit into the back of her arm, suddenly spinning her around and causing her to stumble upon the crimson tail of her cape. Another hand caught her elbow and steadied her but not without pressure like a constrictor snake.

"And just where do you think you are headed to Little Lark?" Prince Alareik held her within his grasp, for he had witnessed as she tried to flee and quit the chamber.

"I refuse to be a part of this. It is ludicrous and not my fault, but _yours_! You should be bound to him for all eternity. Now let me go!"

"We are both losing something today, lest you forget it!" Alareik hissed back at her yanking away from her escape, pulling her along with him. He did not intend on returning her to the royal box where she was seated, but sauntered before the Goblin King where he spoke quietly with the sun elf. Alareik disrupted their brief conversation by shoving Odyna under his nose like bait on a hook.

"Your punishment is trying to escape."

"Get your hands off me!" Odyna cried out as she tried to release herself and hit him at the same moment.

Erlkin refused to accept the challenge offered by Prince Alareik as he rounded his shoulders back, inclining his head in a sign of respect and placing his hand out as if to accept hers. His eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw, "I wholeheartedly accept my just punishment."

"And just to make things fair…" Prince Alareik blurted out as he swung Odyna into his embrace and planted a kiss upon her mouth, searching with greedy and clumsy hands to hold her waist and fondle her breasts before Erlkin. He tore his mouth from hers but not before he made sure to graze his teeth upon her lower lip leaving her breathless and shocked. Then he promptly shoved her at Erlkin.

"Now she is contaminated as well."

Not removing his eyes from the Prince's, Erlkin swept Odyna to the side as he aggressively stepped forward. Alareik did not retreat but equally advanced his footing, his hand creeping to the hilt of his sword. But guards suddenly swarmed them both, stepping between the two feuding males that looked like dark and light bucks in a forest with massive racks throwing themselves at each other to determine who wins the doe. King Enrisel ordered for the guards to escort the prince from the building and secure him in his private suite so he could cause no further disruption.

Elf servants rushed about, gathering the items for the impromptu bonding ceremony. Bringing for the hand fast rope and the three cups, till they rested on a small pedestal in the center of the room. The sounds and whispers from the gallery of elves hummed loudly as they all gossiped regarding the events of the day. Many had never seen the Goblin King before and others had never seen a mortal human either. It was a thrilling experience for so many and a _forced_ bonding ceremony nearly sent them into a ballyhoo of chinwags and commotion.

The two that stood before the pedestal had nothing but glares for each other. King Enrisel had ordered for additional guards to block the entrances and exits to keep Odyna contained and Prince Alareik from gaining access. He gave a deep sigh from his chest for he was anxious to be finished with this day. Though he did not fear the Goblin King, he would be more at ease once he was gone and back in his own kingdom. Enrisel gave a sigh of relief that the council had decided to cast the burden of the unclaimed human upon the Goblin King and not himself. He was equally comforted that Prince Alareik had enough sense to release the Nightingale and save his own blood.

King Enrisel stepped down from the council seating and stood next to the sun-looking elf to serve as a witness in the ceremony. The tension in the small party was almost palpable, especially between the Goblin King and the human. Enrisel gazed upon her features. Her hair was long and her elf attendant had gathered her hair into a braid pattern that mimicked the tree of life on top of her long cascading golden tresses. They shifted and sway with each movement of her hips. Her face was soft and currently flushed with bright pink to her cheeks for she was angry with being forced to bond with Erlkin. From his small assessment of her character, she did not appear to be weak for she had spoken up when others would have cowered in fear. She might be a good distraction for the Goblin King for the next year and would hopefully keep him away from attacking Amalfitare due to his son's impulsive behavior.

"We shall begin." The sun elf spoke, indicating for Erlkin and Odyna to stretch forth both of their hands.

"I won't accept you!" Odyna shot back at him, refusing to accept his out stretched hand. "You cannot force me."

"It is not I that am forcing you, Little Lark." Erlkin growled back at her.

"You must place both of your hands palms to palms."

"No!" Odyna lifted her chin. "I won't."

"There are other ways of bonding her to me!" Erlkin sneered, as he shifted his leg slightly and motioning his head so that she could see the silver dagger.

"Hush both of you and place your palms together."

"I said that I wouldn't and still won't. I demand to go home!"

"Shut up so we can just get this over with!" Erlkin hissed at her.

King Enrisel came next to Odyna and with a strong hand to her back pushed her closer to the Goblin King so that he could grab her hands. He thread his fingers with her own, squeezing so hard that she winced and let out a small cry. Then King Enrisel took the red cording with trifold knots and wound it around the top of Erlkin's wrist and under and around the wrist of Odyna, creating the infinity symbol for both of their hands. The sun elf then began to speak ancient words in elfish that Odyna did not understand, but she felt the cord began to feel warmer. She want's sure if it was part of the ceremony or because of his hands embracing her own. Then the elf turned to the cups placed before them, two small and one large. The elf poured a luminescent liquid from a decanter into the small cups, speaking once again in the ancient language. As she finished, King Enrisel released one of their hands so they could pour the content of the small cup into the larger goblet. Even though Odyna wanted to keep fighting against them, she didn't have the nerve to purposely spill the contents onto the floor like her first thoughts had instructed her. She raised the cup and poured it into the goblet but in defiance refused to look at anything save the floor.

The sun elf took up the golden goblet, raising it above her head and giving a blessing upon it and then swirled it, blending the two liquids till they represented one liquid.

Then she placed it into both of their hands still tied and instructed them both to drink from the goblet. Erlkin raised the goblet to the edge of his lips. He stared at the Little Lark before him the entire time, even though she did not cast her eyes his way. He refused to act anything other than the royal he was and would not let her defiance impact him before the subjects of Amalfitare. They would all know that he took the council's punishment seriously and that he was an elf of his word. He would not let this human destroy his reputation. He did not hesitate but swallowed a mouthful of the liquid. Then he brought his hand, stilled tied with hers, back between them.

She did not raise her head or her eyes and made no move to take her turn at drinking the liquid. He gave her hand a nudge by his own. Her head shot up as if she had been daydreaming, pretending that she were somewhere else. He stared down his nose upon her and pushed the cup toward her.

"No." she whispered silently.

He grit is teeth and clenched his jaw before using their tied hands to yank her closer to him and almost into his chest, sloshing some of the contents onto the tiled floor of the chamber.

"You will drink it!"

"I hate you!" she spat.

"Drink it!"

He used his free hand to wrap around her waist, squeezing her into his firm body as hard as he could.

"Drink!"

Her chest started to heave at his constriction and her small free hand was pushing at his chest. She continued to resist against him and he continued to squeeze even harder till she let out a small gasp. As soon as she did it, he lifted the goblet to her mouth, almost choking her with the liquid as he poured it into her mouth. Then he passed it back to the sun elf, who gave a few more words in elfish and then bowed to the couple and smiled. It was finished.

The crowds were too stunned to cheer and clap at first, but then the sun elf gave King Enrisel a nudge and they commenced the clapping. The gallery sent up an applause, roaring to life.

Odyna threw daggers at Erlkin, who caught them and sent them right back at her.

"Great, now I will be plagued with your presence all night." He taunted her, but spoke truthful words.

"What?!" she responded, her face could not hide the fear and shock.

"Let just hope they don't demand a bedding ceremony!" he chortled.


	23. Chapter 23

The Painted Door

Chapter Twenty three

He flung his jacquard cape from himself in the direction of the desk chair but it fell and rested messily upon the floor, barely missing the chair to her desk in the room that she had been provided at Amalfitare. He then preceded to strip off the black tunic casting it carelessly upon the floor as well till he was clad only in his black breeches and leather boots, his chest and shoulders bare. He did not bother to pay her any mind or even glance back in her direction, as he strode out to the terrace to feel the cooling sea breeze upon him. It cooled his fevered skin that pulsated with fury. He really needed to walk off his rage, but he knew they would not release either of them from the bedchamber till the morning.

The sun set with soft creamy hues of pastels. The night though, was alive and crackling with the fiery explosion of vibrant reds and oranges as they began to burst forth from the horizon where the sun dipped into the sea. It sent rockets of colored streaks into the sky to outline the clouds, mimicking the undercurrents of the emotions of the room. He leaned his elbows heavily against the support railing of the terrace, taking in the salty tang of the air and the perfume of the foliage. The breeze curled the tips of his long black hair, swirling it about his rib cage and back.

Odyna stood rooted to the spot, unable to move further into the room from the doorway—unable to tear her blue eyes from the lash marks that flowed down upon his back like lines drawn on a map. Fear of him drove her back to the dark wooden door as she beat her fists.

"Let me out!" she yelled. "Ialwen! Ialwen! Open this door right now!"

She continued to pound away at the door till her fists felt numb from the contact. No one came to the door and they certainly did not open it if they were there. He had pushed himself away from the railing and was suddenly shadowing her body. "You may stop now!" he said to her arrogantly, pulling her away from the brown mass of wood. He lifted his fist as he stared down into her face and hefted it heavily against the hardness of the wood. He banged it several times and then issued a command.

"Bring more wine!" Then he abruptly turned away, fully expecting his command to be obeyed. But he stopped mid-stride and went back to the door and shouted even louder. "Bring a lot more! And bring water for a bath and tell my head steward to provide me with my trunk." After his list of demands to the door, he took up residence in the chair as he waited, leaning back and stretching his leathered boots atop of the desk. He swept his hand through his black hair and let it rest upon his closed eyes, cradling his forehead as if it ached. He let a sigh escape from his lips as if he carried a heavy burden upon his shoulders and mind.

Odyna paced in a small circle near the door, listening and waiting for the servants to come back with Erlkin's requests so that she might try to escape when the door opened. She had her hands folded and wrung them with anxious anticipation, knowing that she would be afforded only one chance to make a run for it. She heard the scrape of the wood bar that served as a new barrier and moved to the side so that she could push passed the servant or guard that would enter the room. But just as the door clicked and began to swing inward, she felt two strong hands wrap around her waist and heft her up over a broad pale shoulder.

Erlkin lifted her easily like a sack of flour and walked into the other room toward the large poster bed. He dropped her right on top and then turned back to the servants coming into the main room. Ialwen had a tray with food, glasses and wine that she placed on the table with chairs as she stole a glance at the Goblin King and craned her neck to look for Odyna. Another servant was right at her heels with several more bottles. Beyond them were male elves carrying buckets of water trailing steam from their surfaces. They headed directly for the tub and poured endless buckets till it was at least three quarters deep. Erlkin walked over to the table and selected a lush grape and popped into his mouth before he went and dipped his hand into the tub. It was so hot it could burn the flesh but he knew it was exactly what he needed at this moment. Silence and a chance to process the events of the day.

The trail of servants came in and out without a word and the last one had a large black travel case hefted upon his shoulder. He walked right to where the desk was and placed it down upon the floor. With a deep bow to the Goblin King he spun on his heel and exited the room. Ialwen was the last of the servants to quit the room, not seeing the poor girl she had been attending to provide a comforting glance. She gave a sigh and then shut the door.

Erlkin could hear as the elves secured the door with the wooden bar lock. He just rolled his eyes, for if he truly wanted to leave, he would just use magic to transport himself to his castle. He sat down on the edge of the chair to the desk and poured himself a glass of wine and taking a long pull from the red liquid. It was not a deep and rich wine but one that was lighter and sweet to the tongue, no doubt for her benefit. He gathered more grapes from the tray and popped them into his mouth once more as he took off the leather boots and stockings, casting them aside. Lastly he stripped himself of the black britches and draped them over the chair. Turning his back to the room housing the bed he had cast her upon, he reached down for the wine glass once more and the wine bottle but before he could climb into the nautilus shell tub, Odyna came storming out of the room. A cry of surprise sounded from her lips. He casually glanced over his shoulder, giving a smirk and then counter-offered her alarmed utterance, "Care to join me?"

She had watched for at least several seconds and could not help the greediness of her eyes as they sought to travel over every chiseled curve of his body. The voyeur of desire rendered her feet useless once she had emerge from the bedroom, catching sight of him before the tub, pulling off his last and final garment before entering the tub. His skin was an iridescent white, like an alabaster marble. Her breath had been stolen, caught captive by the moment. The Victorian prude within her shouted for her to turn away from such an inappropriate sight, but the devil too, whispered in her ear telling her to take in the flawless perfection of the figure standing before her as he was her new betrothed. Her fingers itched slightly in response with a temptation to touch the stone before her to see if it was truly flesh or if she only stared upon a marble carving. A need rose in her to trace a delicate finger over the pronounced musculature but her stare and imagination were scattered in various directions like a flippant butterfly as he had turned, speaking at her. She flushed more crimson than the cape she wore, quickly turning her back upon him, covering her hand with her mouth. She didn't know what to do or which direction to turn save not in his.

Erlkin gave a retort, "Suite yourself." Then he climbed into the scalding water. He grimaced as he sank down into the tub, a low hiss emitting from his lips as he leaned back and rested his head on the edge. He propped his elbows at his sides and casually balanced the wine glass as well. He kept his eyes shut in the reverie of the burning heat but would take sips every few seconds oblivious to all but his own ministrations.

She stood with her back turned on him for several minutes more, trapped by indecision on where to go, for the space they now occupied together no longer felt spacious but choking. Casting her eyes as low as possible, she skirted out to the terrace. The evening was approaching with the darkening of purple shadows and dully highlighted clouds. The breeze picked up in response to the heat of her still flushed cheeks and swayed the hem of her dress, making light of golden tendrils that had escaped the "Tree of Life" braid the elf attendant had fashion in her hair for the council session.

The stone railing she leaned upon still held the heat of the day in their smooth edges and the air was thick with floral perfume, but she caught her breath anyway. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, choking down a sob. _What was happening? What did she just do? Oh God! I am married? Or bound to him. To the wrong person! To the wrong species! How is this happening?_ Everything she had been taught and raised to believe in, ruined. Ruined! Now she would be a fallen woman and Charles might never accept her back, _if_ she could even get back to him. Her head swirled with thoughts, the sunset forgotten. She felt that she couldn't breathe, a tightening in her chest throbbed and a pain in her waist began to tick along with her rapid pulse. A buzzing noise started in the back of her head till it enveloped her entirely, growing louder and louder during which a fog began encroaching on her senses. She tried to hold onto the railing as the blackness threatened to consume her, but it came too fast. Odyna fainted, crumpling to the floor like a wilted flower, the sound of the thud drew Erlkin's attention from his half-dozing revelry. He looked across the space to see her lying upon the floor by the terrace railing.

He gave a long sigh as he placed his glass upon the floor and sloshed out of the warm bath water. He was almost tempted to just let her lie upon the floor and continue to enjoy this one pleasure that the day had afforded him. He was weary to fully engage her now. Now that he knew she was not the Lark. Now that he knew the truth. He grabbed for one of the large white drying sheets and wrapped himself in it, determined to merely pick her up, deposit her upon the bed and retreat once again to the warmth of the bath and another bottle of wine for this would surely be a long night. He sauntered over to the mass of crimson, white and black. She looked like a wounded swan but her form could also be housing a sleeping dragon for all he knew.

But he deftly swept her up in his arms, gathering the trailing cape and walked her back into the room and then into the second with the large poster bed. He gently laid her upon the white bedding and looked down at her silent face. A face that still haunted his dreams on and off again, reminding him of the grief that was always there, it had never left him. He continued to carry the image of his beloved lark lying crumpled in his arms at the threshold of the Eastern Painted door. And here it was as if he were holding her again. The action caught him slightly and he longed to quit her presence but there was something in her childlike beauty that rendered him temporarily helpless as her haunted beauty held him captive. He watched as emotions flash across her countenance, her brow furrowed and a whimper escaped. He was curious to what she dreamed about and it drew a smirk to the corner of his mouth, especially at the thought of himself being the cause of her distress.

He broke free if her lure and turned to head back to the other room, sure that the water was more than likely a lukewarm than searing and easy to abandon. But an ample amount of the wine would heat his blood sufficiently. But her melodic voice sounded, a tremor accompanied the words.

"He…he had convinced me that it was a dream, you know. So many years ago."

He did not respond.

"Erlkin" she whispered ever so softly.

Erlkin stopped and turned around, still only clad in the white towel sheet, and appraised her. She had awakened and pulled herself up onto her elbows, her blue eye looking toward him but not really looking _at_ him.

"Who told you?" Erlkin hissed whisper, leaning his neck out as if to prevent her from ever saying his name again.

"She called to you when she crossed over. You were there! I remember you. She said your name and I remember it."

"Stop!" Erlkin lifted his hand. He did not want to relive the memories of that day, and yet he could not pull his stare away from this woman. She let her lashes fall upon her cheeks as she recollected over the years. The stories. The dreams that she had had. Trying to tell her father and him just convincing her that she had made up stories to cope. After she had fainted she recalled the night her mother disappeared through the door. In the dream she had cried out to her mother as she called to the king that stood before her now.

"Erlkin." Odyna let the name fall again casually from her lips before looking up again. "She called for Erlkin and you appeared to her."

"Dare you use my fae name," he growled at her, stealthily approaching her near the bed, but Odyna did not cower from him, recalling the conversations she had had with him and the advice from the Nightingale. Names were powerful and she intended to use this knowledge to gain the upper hand in this binding until she could find a way out of this world and back home.

"Are you implying that I have power over you, Erlkin?" She rose from the bed and approached him, guardedly, speaking as softly as she could, just barely above a whisper. No matter how quiet the voice was, it rang loudly in his ears as she spoke his fae name once more. She was close but made sure to hover at least an arm's length from the weary Goblin King.

He instantly righted himself, regal and on guard from her person. She took a step toward him, drawing herself ever closer to him, tempting him to react to her calling upon him. She tentatively reached out her hand as if to try and caress a wild cat. His sharp intake of a breath stilled her out stretched hand. She swallowed hard and let it drop but still hopeful that she might get her way.

"It would still be so easy to let me go Erlkin."

Erlkin let his expression go blank, as if in astonishment; entranced by her magic words. His shoulders slacking just slightly in capitulation. "Yes Little Lark, it would be infinitely easy…if that is what you wish." Erlkin turned away from her and strode back to the tub, bending down to snatch up the glass, an effort to contain the mirth he felt at her efforts. She wished to play a power game with him and he found it thoroughly entertaining, why not let her try. He poured himself another glass of wine and then filled one for her as well. Turning, still wrapped in the white sheet, he headed back to her, stretching the glass out for her to take.

"We shall leave in the morning. I will guide you through the labyrinth and you will be able to pass through safely to your realm."

"Can you not let me through the painted door, like my mother?" The confirmation of her words regarding Lela being her mother stung him because that meant that Jackson was her father, and her an enemy. But he did not let it affect his countenance nor the game she wished to entangle herself in. He shut his eyes and opened wide soft green ones to her, full of soft false eagerness to obey her commands. He approached her gently, reaching a hand toward her own. She instantly drew backward, fearful of him. He sighed softly at her, turning his head compassionately, nodding toward the glass.

"Drink, for surely this has been trying for you and I wish that I had thought of it earlier. But, alas, Little Lark, the keys to the corner doors of the realm lay at the center of the labyrinth. To open them, one must conquer its pathways. But worry not, for I govern the labyrinth and will guide you safely through it."

Odyna stepped forward tentatively and reached for the glass, barely grazing her fingers against his own as she took it. But his hand quickly laced outward gripping her wrist and they both watched at some of the wine sloshed to the floor. His grip was not tight, but startled her, for his hand was cool against her flesh. His green eyes were swirling pools of liquid sap sprinkled with golden flecks. He gently pulled her closer to him as he bore down upon her with those entrancing eyes. He could feel her body stiffen and lean back slightly in resistance. He lifted his own glass and clinked it lightly against the glass she gripped tightly.

"A toast, to your freedom!" he said, his expression was emotionless and blank.

Odyna pursed her lips and swallowed hard, saying nothing but giving a nod. Though his hand was cool, it caused her entire body to react with heat. It spread over her skin like lava and the cool breeze only enhanced the burning sensation. He did not let go over her wrist as he lifted his own glass to his lips, taking a deep draught of the red liquid, closing dark lashes upon the forest that were his eyes. When he opened them again, his fingers lessened their grip. He let her pull her hand away from them and she lifted the glass to her mouth, taking a sip of the wine. It danced on her tongue, light and sweet. Her heart was racing and she could feel it drum all the way up to her temple. She shook her gaze from his quickly and turned away to give herself some space, but realized that she was backed up to the bed.

She turned around to walk passed Erlkin but he had come even closer to her. He stood above her now, staring down, his eyes had darken his brows furrowed just slightly and a small smirk flashed in the corner of his mouth. He took another pull on his wine glass, drinking the last of the sweet liquid and then threw the glass from him. The impact sent hundreds of reflective shards upon the floor, glinting in the final rays of the setting sun.

"And would it not be equal to have you satisfy my whims as well...Odyna?" he flashed an mischievous looking grin, taking a predatory step closer to her, backing her further against the bed, and effectively cutting her off from an escape route. Her mouth had dropped open in shock as he said her given name. Her eyes were wider than a startled deer in the forest.

"How do you know my name," she questioned, trying to lean as far from him as possible her hand defensively shooting up between them.

"Two can play this game, my Little Lark." His smile widen and he closed the space between them grabbing both her elbow and wrenching her against him. "Which I suppose you truly are- Lela's daughter."

Suddenly her hands were a frenzy of movement, much like the rough seas of the ocean, beating frantically upon the shore, but making little progress at diminishing its existence. Her heart pounded fiercely with each pound of her fist against his chest and his heart, likewise, echoed as her hand made contact. Their hearts beat in unison to the wave of emotion between them of anger—of the need for control-of power—and aroused passion.

Not a word was said between them, but the communication was clear. Erlkin quickly laced his fingers within hers, intertwining them together as one yanking her forward and into him more. She heard the sounds of the ocean and yet she could not separate its beating waves from her own. His mouth then consumed hers. Her eyes remained open for a time, looking to the blue of the sky.

Oh, the sky…the stars…the moon….then her lids drifted closed to the welcoming warmth as her body responded to his kiss. She was finally swept up by a wave and crashed against his body.

* * *

><p>AN-I do apologize for taking my sweet time to get these two closer together again but the story line evolves how it does. Regardless of the long wait, I do truly value your thoughts and opinions regarding the work and the chapters. It is rated teen right now, so I am unsure how steamy I will let their interactions be. Give me some feedback and then we can determine if the rating should evolve to M for maturity. Comment, questions, suggestions are truly welcome. Thanks.


	24. Chapter 24

The Painted Door

Chapter Twenty Four

Erlkin's fingers released her own as he tasted her mouth, grabbing for the glass she still held in her hand and taking it from her fingers into his own. Using his free hand he traced the curve of her hip, pressing his thumb in a deep caress on her pelvic bone, causing a half-sigh half-moan to rise up in her throat. It didn't crest her lips for he pulled her hips deeper into his own, his hand holding the glass wrapped fiercely about her waist. His free hand slid up her back till he reached the base of her hair line. He thread his fingers into the mass of golden waves and pulled till she parted her lips for him to explore even more. Warmth spread through her entire body, her blood thickening with the caress of his mouth and a terrible pulsing started to emanate from within.

As quickly as it seemed that he kissed her, he was letting her go. It was an abrupt cease to the kiss as well. The game apparently over with truths revealed. He side stepped Odyna's form and strolled back to the table with her wine glass now cradled in his possession. He placed it upon the table, reaching for an unopened bottle of wine. His nimble fingers had no problem popping the cork from the opening. He poured himself more from what was once her glass and consumed its entirety and then refilled it once more.

"He is right you know." Erlkin chuckled haughtily from over his shoulder, placing the refilled glass upon the table and opening his black trunk. He rummaged through till he found a creamy colored tunic and pulled it over his head. Odyna watched in a trance as the Goblin King pulled the ivory fabric over his shoulders and about his waist. He then gathered his long black hair, pulling it free from the entrapment of the collar and it swung down like a black sheet. Not caring, he dropped the white sheet about his waist and pulled on a pair of hunter green trousers.

Odyna's lips were swollen from his assault and she instinctively reached to touch a finger to them, still feeling his heat. She could feel the flush on her cheeks, her body's response to his kiss pulsing through her veins. The red cape with its black dragon bolero became confining and choking in the heat. Her eyes tracked him as he nonchalantly strode over with her glass to fetch more wine. She watched as he threw open his trunk and found a shirt to put on, a voice in the back of her mind screaming that she knew what would come next. That small voice that sounded like her governess hissing at what young ladies should and should not stare at. It rang loudly in her ears as Erlkin pulled the white sheet loose from him hips. She caught her breath and turned, not daring to look at him as he dressed, feeling embarrassed once again. She strode away from him slightly, but acknowledged his words.

"Wh…who?" She said keeping her back to him in an attempt to maintain some purity. She wished for a fan, it felt so hot in the room and he was only making it worse.

"Why, Prince Alareik, of course." He said, fully clothed now and leaning against the edge of the table, arms crossed about his chest but still holding the glass of wine. He had turned his attention to her as she stood with her crimson cape facing him, her long hair dripped down like rays of sunlight upon a river of blood. The "tree of life" braid in the back rippled, shaking its branches as if bending in a light breeze as she flexed her shoulders back slightly, as if uncomfortable in her own skin. She pulled at its high neck line. The dragons perched at her shoulders moved effortlessly with her movement, quiet but raging fire down her arms. She was a contradiction pacing before him, so—obviously—young and naïve, totally inexperienced and at a loss for what to do. His eyes danced upon her, though she did not see them. He took another sip of his wine as he reveled in the idea of increasing that uncomfortable twitch she displayed before him.

She did not turn to look back at him as she answered. "Right about what?"

"That you're contaminated!" He taunted with a regal tone of indifference, hiding the mirth under a skilled mask of royal countenance. He wanted to see just how much he could agitate her. How quickly could he get her to really breathe fire, if any at all?

"How dare you…" she spun about thrusting her shoulders back and her statue rising up, her blue eyes wide and sharp with a festering venom. The black fabric dragons upon her shoulders rose to attention as well. But to Erlkin, it was not but a puff of smoke that spilled from her lips. He took another calculated sip of wine and jabbed at her more, taking a tone filled with malice and contempt, which was not untrue to the feelings he had of Jackson. "It is not Prince Alareik that contaminated you, but the blood of your father."

He set the bait and she responded just as he wished. Her hands balled into little fists and she was coming toward him quickly, her heart-shaped face twisted in a flash of anger at the insult. She wanted to shake her fists at him and hit him, but she stopped arm's length away from this hunter-king and gave a stamp of her foot in protest. She was breathing heavy as she seethed with anger, her chest quickly rising and falling. She was at least a head and a half shorter than himself, like an enraged baby dragon.

"Ohh, Maybe I should call you Little Dragon instead of Little Lark, for you are so fierce little one," he taunted as he lifted his hands in mock defense.

"Do not call me any such names! Why don't you just call me by my real name since you obviously know it? Then you can stop pretending that I am the woman you once loved!"

"What fire you spew Little Dragon!" He casually turned and placed his wine glass down. "I do think that it needs to be squelched."

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"Such a challenge, surely you know better than that!"

"No!" She cried. "I don't care if you are a king or not. How dare you speak of my father in such an ill manner! You don't even know him."

"Don't I?" Erlkin lifted a menacing fist in her direction. "Oh, I know enough about him. If I were to see him again, I would kill him on the spot. I would spare him no mercy at all. Just as I should have spared _YOU _no mercy."

Erlkin eyed his dagger now as it laid upon the table. It gleamed a bright silver, catching the reflection of the dancing flames of the torches about the room. The elves must have lit them when they brought the water for the bath, for he did not remember when they were escorted to the room after the bonding ceremony. He walked over to it, picking it up in his hand. He slipped it free from its sheath and twisted the tip into his fingertip lightly. He snarled to himself, an exasperation escaping his lips from deep in his chest, as he tossed it upon the table once again. Now that the council bound them together with the ancient magic his dagger would be useless. He should have turned her the moment he saw her, regardless of who she looked like. He turned on her now and stared at her once more, his eyes narrowing with anger. Damn her and damn that lousy goblin for bringing her here.

She was not like the Lark for she was full of defiance, like her father, Jackson. She was, surely, stubborn like him as well. He wished to beat it from her body to a bloody pulp. If he could reach into her soul and separate the part of her that was Jackson he would. Erlkin grit his teeth, for now he was bound to this willful and stubborn creature standing before him. She was standing defiantly now too. She had her hands upon her hips as if she had the power to command him about. A smiled flashed across his face, the hunter instincts awakened. He would do the hunting and she would be the prey and know her place.

He arched his dark eyebrows above those swirling green eyes filled with anticipation of a chase. His lips twitched and then a smirk curled into the corner of his mouth. He took a step toward her and she backed away.

"Get away from me!" She hissed.

"Why should I wish to be apart from my new betrothed?" He questioned. "I merely wish to inspect the new property I have acquired."

"I am not your property!" she spat back.

"Humph!" He said as he swung back around and downed the rest of his glass of wine, pouring more to replace what had been consumed. "Little Dragon, I highly doubt that things have changed so much in the mortal realm that women are no longer the property of men upon marriage. I can almost guarantee that it is still the case, for the hearts of men change too slowly."

"Charles loves me! I am not just property to him." She stood tall as she defended her fiancé, picturing the crinkle in his chestnut eyes and the freckles that speckled the bridge of his nose.

"Charles? That is his name."

"Yes, Charles Thorpe! Damn you Erlkin, why did you not let me leave. You must have known that I was not who you thought. I told you that I wasn't and you didn't listen." Odyna choked down a sob as the tears began to well up in her eyes, her fists balled in frustration. She closed the space between them and grabbed for the glass on the table to drink some of the wine, needing the drink to calm her weepiness and remain bold. She took a long draught of it, not caring that he had just had the same glass to his lips. At this point in time, she felt that all the Victorian etiquette could be shoved from the terrace since none of the creatures in this realm even seemed conscious of them anyway. It was liberating to not feel the need to abide by its strict social rules.

His hand bit into her arm above the elbow, and she grimaced in pain, her mouth lifting from the glass. "And would he still love you after you returned from here? Would he wait for you?"

"Yes!" She replied impassioned, though she wasn't sure in her heart of hearts. But she would not let Erlkin think that any doubt could reside there either, since this was a battle of power.

"You're wrong!" He hissed, gripping even harder. "You would be nothing but a distant memory like all of his other broken toys!"

Odyna could not speak she was so shocked, which only encouraged Erlkin's viper tongue, piercing her with venom.

"He would not take you back. Not if I ensure to deliver you back broken."

Odyna's mouth dropped in shock at his words. She could not help herself but let her other hand crack swiftly across Erlkin's face. The white alabaster began to redden with the imprint of her small hand. He flinched only slightly at the boldness of her move. The slap had stung but he pressed it down and to the back of his mind. His hands were upon her arms instantly, his face so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath and it smell of the wine. He gave her a rough shake, causing her head to fall back.

"I will make sure to deny him the satisfaction of your heart. I will force you to yield to me. Your heart and desires will forever be linked to me. I will make sure that your only heart's desire is to honor me."

"How could you?" she whispered as a tear streaked down her cheek.

"Because it pleases me and revenge is sweet!" He abruptly released her arms, removing himself from such close proximity to her. He was angry but he also fought the passion that was swelling within him. He wished to act upon his threat by pulling her into his arms and possessing her.

"Stay away from me!" she whispered loudly as she turned and walked away, wiping the tears from her face as she headed back toward the bedroom with the intent to get as far away from his as she could in the confined space they were forced to share. Glancing back over her shoulder, checking to see that he did not follow her, but when their eyes tangled, his countenance changed.

He did not heed her warning but advanced upon her instead. The two rooms seemed incredibly small to her with nowhere for her to run from him and he was suddenly at the apex of the two rooms. Conveniently and strategically placed right in the center, commanding all avenues. If she tried for the door, he would catch her, which was pointless anyway because she would not be able to get through the door since it was locked from the outside. If she tried to run to the terrace to his side, he would catch her and her only escape would be to try to jump to freedom, or her death. She was cornered and they both knew it. But she refused to come willingly and turned and fled into the bedroom. Maybe she could find something to use against him or at least throw at him.

He did not run after her, but insouciantly meandered after her like a predator would trot behind a wounded prey, waiting for it to become weak from bleeding out. An evil smile played upon his lips, his eyes flashing with the thrill of the hunt. As he entered in after her, she turned and grabbed anything she could lace her fingers around from the vanity, throwing it at him. First a brush. Then a comb. Then a wooden container and finally she reached for her slipper to throw. He dodged them all, laughing the entire time. She had backed herself into a corner, trapped between the vanity, wall and the bed. He did not rush at her but continued to stalk her slowly, toying. A cry escaped her as she ran out of things to grab to throw at him. She eyed a perfume bottle on the vanity and considered using it, but if she tried to grab it, his hands would surely capture her for his person was quickly minimizing the available space.

Instead, she hefted up her dress in her hands and tried to skirt quickly across the length of the bed. Odyna heard Erlkin laugh once more as he lashed out and grabbed at the billowing crimson mass that was her cape, its train trailing behind her too slowly. He grabbed a fist full and twisted it, reeling it back toward himself. Then he caught another snatch of it in his other hand and pulled, as if winding in a line of a fishing rod, the prize caught at the hook on the end. He caught a glimpse of her ankle as she struggled to get free and across the bed and snatched it. Then he pulled her body out from under her and she fell on her stomach. She gripped the coverlet underneath her fingertips to get leverage against him, but he quickly found her other ankle and yanked her free.

He dragged her back across the bed and flipped her over, then climbed upon her, trapping her between his hard thighs. A yelp tore from her mouth and she flailed her fists in his direction, trying to hit at him anywhere. "Oh God, please!" she cried out.

"Flattery will get you nowhere Little Dragon." He grinned as he tightened his knees into her sides and she winced in pain. He manage to grasp one wrist and then the other, driving them up and above her head, but she still bucked furiously against him, trying to wiggle free of his power. He gripped harder on her wrists and slammed them back slightly into the softness of the bed, grabbing her attention. Her blue eyes were steely with the storm clouds that raged within them.

"Yield!" He commanded her.

"No!" She cried back.

"I am a very patient king!" He said as he eased back his weight onto his haunches, her captured wrists followed a trek to the sides of her face. She let out a groan at the shift in his weight onto her small hips and thighs, it felt like she would be crushed underneath them.

"Let me go!" She said panting, the heaviness of his body and his knees driving furiously into her sides caused her to cringe in pain and catch her breath.

"What's wrong dragon, lose your fire?" he teased.

She did not answer at first, her chest rising and falling like a panicked bird. Her mouth suddenly dry, her tongue darted out to wet her lips, ending with her raking her teeth across her bottom lip, his eyes lit as she did so. She stole a glance to one of her trapped wrists and tried to pull free again. She grit her teeth and shook her head.

"Go ahead, keep trying. You'll eventually tire yourself out!" His tone full of boredom.

She struggled again, wriggling her shoulders underneath him, but his hands bit into her flesh with every attempt at twisting them free until she cried out from the pain. But she hadn't given up because she tried again and again till her body ached with fatigue. It was like trying to lift a stone wall that had collapsed upon her, pinning her down. He merely sat, watching her with those damn green eyes; ever calm and collective.

"Please…" she finally whispered.

"What? Say again. I cannot hear you!" he snickered.

"Get off me! You're hurting me." She implored, trying to play on his compassion.

"We all get hurt sometimes don't we?" His eyes narrowed before her, his face dipping closer to hers, the statement a reminder of his recent encounter with a whip-bearing Bruman. His long black hair oozed over his shoulders, seeping down the length of his face, framing his high cheek bones and arrogant jaw. It tickled over her chest and danced closely at her cheeks. He sat back on his haunches again, taking in her small body. Suddenly her hands were free, but he was ripping the black dragon bolero from her shoulders and pulling them from the length of her arms, some of the straps breaking in the process. It was as if he were stripping her of any power that she might have over him. Discarding it upon the floor, rendering her nothing but the weak bird he had first titled her.

She did not raise her fists again him as he eased himself from her body, though he took no chances, for he grabbed upon them once he was standing, yanking her up from the layers of blankets. Capturing both in one hand, he pulled her resistant form closer to him. He smelled like the forest after a heavy rain with the hints of pine and cedar. He tore at where the crimson cape secured at her bodice, ripping it asunder and then peeling the red fabric down the length of each arm as if he were removing the skin of an apple. The cleavage of the white dress dipped low into a deep v, revealing her pale skin. Her collar bones and her breast bone exposed. She flushed as he assessed her with his eyes, taking in her soft creamy skin. She still smelled rich of honeysuckles, regardless of whichever perfume the elves had given her to wear. The smell seeped from her skin and was intoxicating to the point of saturation.

"Odyna…" he whispered her name like a long caress playing with it on his mouth, speaking it like casting a magic spell. She raised her eyes toward his and they were no longer full of anger or mirth but with hunger. He had caught his prey and now he contemplated what to do with it.

"Please..." she whispered back as he pulled her closer against his chest, dipping his face into her hair and breathing deep of the honey flavor. "Don't."

He was so tempted. What kind of madness was this, when the look and words of a girl seemed like an intoxicating liquor of life? He did not dare drink from what she offered. Erlkin did not move but merely stared at her.

"That is no way to speak to your betrothed." He mockingly reprimanded her, his voice was growing husky. The words stung her for her mind suddenly stirred up the image of Charles, giving a rebirth to the ember of anger that had moments ago been a fire. She leaned into Erlkin, pressing herself toward the length of his body, her hips nudging again his own in a move of supplication. She gave a soft sigh as she raised her parted lips, her breathe ragged. The move of surrender took Erlkin by surprise for he had anticipated to stir up her rage again. She gave a gentle pull of her wrists, and releasing them she glided them up his chest and then around his back, only to pull him within her embrace.

He grabbed at her chin and lowered his mouth to hers, her lips parting with surrender. His hands claimed her cheeks, tilting her head back further. It was then that he felt the pain of Odyna as she kneed him in the groin. As he tore away from her face, she had a glint in her eye that churned with revenge. The move only served to enrage him, the anger blanketing the pain between his legs. She tried to flee again from him, but he stretched out his hand, just barely managing to get her hair and yanked her back toward him.

"Damn you minx!"

His hardened green eyes bore down into her own in a standoff of silence. His words were the first to break it. He hefted her up into his arms even while she tried to beat upon him again.

"Looks like that fire isn't quite diminished. Let's see what we can do about that."

He stormed away from the bed crossing the apex into the next room. Within seconds his long strides brought him hovering above the tub shaped like a nautilus, the water long since cooled. Without a second thought he let go of her, dropping her in, clothing and all.

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><p><strong>AN-Please Read and Review! Thanks!**


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